


Trouble Has A Rose Tattoo

by Zialltops



Series: Trouble Has A Name [1]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Criminals, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Breaking Bad References, But he is still a perfect angel, Daddy Issues, Daryl dixon cooks meth, Don’t Judge Me, Drug Use, M/M, Mechanics, Rick Grimes is a good father, also
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-06
Updated: 2018-11-16
Packaged: 2019-08-19 19:36:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 12
Words: 23,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16540841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zialltops/pseuds/Zialltops
Summary: Paul Grimes is one hundred and twenty three pounds of untocuhed innocence who is sick and tired of everyone treating him like he's going to break. While hunting for a taste of freedom he finds something far more dangerous.





	1. Getting Tired Of Being Good

**Author's Note:**

> I literally only wrote this because I LOVE dirty, grimmy, gruffy Daryl Dixon. Also, Rick is married to Lori, he is the sheriff and Maggie and Paul are their only kids.

Paul was damn tired of being the all American, blue ribbon, straight A son. Every time he stepped foot into the general store in the center of their sleepy town, people didn’t give him a second look. Paul was all thin and innocent planes of pale skin that had never seen the full force of the sun or the beaming pressure of the moon against the soft freckles lining his chest.

He was the son of Sheriff Rick Grimes and his high school science teacher wife, Lori. People knew him as the lanky, less attractive little brother of Maggie Grimes, or the hypochondriac hand sanitizer toting bookworm that wore glasses too big for his face.

And he was so _fucking_ tired of being treated like he was far to fragile for anyone to lay their hands on, unless it was to beat his ass for looking like a venerable target.

He was freshly seventeen with eight hundred dollars in birthday money and saved up allowance in his pocket as he peddled his bike towards town. It was a warm Georgia Saturday morning, his father was out on patrol and his mother was at home with Maggie. The two were busy planning Maggie’s nineteenth birthday, the last summer left before she would head off for collage in the fall. His mother was frantically trying to spend every dwindling second with her daughter in a last ditch attempt to make up for lost time.

A few cars passed him up, flying across the rollercoaster roads, winding along farm land and endless woods. The money in his blue jeans is burning a hole but he presses his hands to it firmly as he reaches the towns sign.

**_Greenville, Georgia. Population 1,458_ **

Greenville was quite, quaint and sleepy. The type of town where everyone knew each others business. It was a farm town that held a market every Saturday morning so the streets were relatively busy at this time. He rounded the corner of the park on Third and Churchill that lead down to the old Mechanics shop, the only one in town. Paul knew well enough that it was a harbor for misconduct and felonies, but he was set on what he was about to do.

He stoped his bike and leaned it up against a tall tree with a soft patter of heavy breaths. The old mechanic shop in front of him is looming and impending trepidation. The building is made of brick, painted a dingy white that’s flaming away to show the dirty stone. It used to be the fire station before the Dixon’s took it over. The Dixon’s being the center of his turmoil. The Dixon’s have a reputation of risky intent and his dad would ground him for a year if he found out his only son was outside of their run-down old shop.

Paul swallows and steps onto the sidewalk, trudging towards the open metal door. There’s sounds of a impact working away at a bolt on the underside of a buick. It makes his skin feel clammy and tight. He makes his way around the car sitting on the hoist. There’s a figure underneath, working away. He is dark with a tan, blackened arms covered in grease. He’s grunting away at his work and dripping already in the mid morning heat. It makes Paul feel even more uneasy about the situation.

He clears his throat anxiously and holds his hands behind his back as he rocks on his heals. The man stops what he’s doing and drops his heavy arms, turning to look at him. He’s got long dark hair and a scruffy beard splashed with a little grey. He eyes Paul, sizing him up.

He’s got a sleeveless button up that’s covered in oil. He’s got a couple roses making up a half sleeve tattoo on his left arm and a red shop rag hanging out of his back pocket. He pulls it out and wipes his hands roughly. Even under the grime Paul can see how calloused and cracked his hands are.

“Need somethin’, short stack?” His voice is almost as rugged as his image. Paul is silent for all too long because the man shifts on his feet. “Oh—uh, I’m sorry. I came to uh—buy the old Cougar out front.” He could feel the heat burning from his gut, up to his cheeks at the way the much, much older man eyes him. “‘S nine hundred.” He told him, setting down the air tool in his hand and picking up a pack of cigarettes from his work bench.

Paul is ashamed at the pitiful sigh that leaves him. “It says eight on the window?” He accuses. His voice is far too squeaky for a man doing business. “Other hundred is for my time.” He says out of the corner of his mouth as he brings a match to the cigarette in his mouth. He draws in a long breath and Paul would be lying if he said he didn’t mean to blow it all at him.

“You even old ‘nough to drive, kid?” The man said, leaning against the table. Paul all but scowls at him and crosses his arms over his chest. “I’m eighteen.” He lies. The other man chuckles at him and picks himself up from where he’s slouching against the work bench. He makes his way outside, still puffing on his cigarette. Paul follows like that’s what the man expects because he starts to speak without even looking back.

“She’s goin’ to need a little work, new tires and a new carburetor before shell move but you can work on it here.” He tells him.

Paul has been in love with the old muscle car for weeks now. If people saw him driving up and down these old streets in this, they wouldn’t think of him as the scrawny sheriffs son. “I’ve only got eight.” He pulls the wad of cash out of his pocket and hands it over. It’s a rolled up stack of ones and twenties, tied with a rubber band around the middle. The man holds the cigarette in his mouth and pulls the bad off, counting it quickly and skillfully.

He tosses Paul a twenty and pulls the butt out of his mouth. “Go get me a ‘nother pack of smokes, I’ll pull out some old wheels and you can get started puttin’ them on.” He says as he stuffs the money into his deep front pockets. “What’s yer name anyways?” He asks.

“Paul. Paul G—uh, just Paul.” He settled on. He doesn’t want to give anything away, doesn’t want this man to kick him out when he finds out he’s his huntsman son.

“Daryl Dixon.” He says, sticking out his grease-stained hand. Paul shakes it weakly, the way Daryl grasps his small fingers has a cold chill running down his spine despite the hot air around them.

Paul takes his bike two blocks down to the liquor store where old man Dale is running the cash register. “H-Hey, uh, the mechanic asked me to come down here and get him a pack of smokes.” He tells him. Dale gives him one of his disappointing glances and turns around. “If your daddy comes asking, I ain’t going to lie for you, son.” The chirpy old man tells him as he pulls the same pack Daryl had off the shelf behind him like he knows who it’s for all too well.

“But I am going to tell you how dangerous those two are. Keep your distance, Grimes.” Paul hands over the twenty with a sigh. “I’m just buying a car, he’s putting tires on it for me.” He tells him reassuringly as he takes the smokes and his change in a hurry. He’s lucky Dale even let him buy them, he knows better than anyone that Paul is nowhere near old enough, but he is smart enough to know Paul wouldn’t dare touch them.

He heads back to the shop to find Daryl jacking up the front end of the primer grey car. “Know how to change a tire? Lookin’ like you ain’t ever touched a tire iron in yer life.” The man says, taking the pack and dollar bills from Paul who is faking offense. He has, in fact, never changed a tire in his life.

“Well—uh, no...but I’m sure I can figure it out.” He says, reaching out for the cool metal cross. Daryl stands by idly while he tries to fit the right socket around the Lugnuts. When they don’t twist, he pushes with his whole weight and still doesn’t move.

“ _Jesus, little one_.” The man huffs behind him. The words made heat pool between Paul’s trembling thighs. “Move over.” He says, leaning down and pulling the iron towards him. With a wicked groan, he loosens all the nuts easily. Paul gets lost in the way the muscles in his biceps flex with every tug.

Paul isn’t sure about a lot of things in his life. He’s not sure what kind of jelly he likes with his PB & J’s, what his favorite season is, if he likes the fan on or the window open at night. But he’s sure that he’s got a type and it is very, very specific type. That type includes rough, grumbly grown men that look like they could snap him in half.

“Gonn’ stare or are you going to pass me that tire?” He asks him. Paul snaps out of his daze and rolls the tire toward Daryl who yanks it from him with one hand. He puts it on quickly and pulls himself to his feet with a creek. “If were doin’ this all mornin, might as well make the best of it.”

In the end, Paul ends up with a lawnchair, a rootbeer in one hand and a Bluetooth speaker playing old country beside him. He didn't peg Daryl for the type to listen to Brooks and Dunn, but here he is. He’s got his knees tucked up to his chest as he watches. Daryl had set up the chair for him under the tree over hanging the old car while he worked. Paul felt like he was being overindulged and coddled again, but this time it doesn’t make him feel wheezy and too small. It makes him feel like he’s being put on a pedestal.

Daryl changed his tires and pops the hood to get to work on the carburetor. “So—your pa out digging up trouble this ‘mornin?” He asks without looking. Paul chokes on the sweet soda and shifts uncomfortably.

“Don’t worry kid, I won’t go tellin’ daddy on ya’. But you gotta do me a favor in return, make up for that missin’ hundred.” The man turns around once the part is pulled off the car. He sets it on the frame above the radiator and leans against the car while he fishes for his second cigarette in the last hour.

Paul wants to oblige, nod viciously and say “anything you want, Mr. Dixon”

He only manages a hard swallow and a bob of his head. “Gon’ need you to get somethin’ for me. Somethin’ in evidence.”

Paul feels a little more rattled about the arrangement the longer the younger Dixon stares at him. There is something fiery and determined about the look hidden behind his bangs. “A gun or something?” Paul asks cautiously. The man chuckles at him and takes a drag. “If I wanted a gun, sure as shit wouldn’t be askin’ you. Nah—what I’m lookin’ for can’t be replaced. It’s a vest, wings on the back.”

Paul recalls the vest from three summers back when he’d been caught stealing Ms. Brumbee’s apples. His dad made him clean and reorganize the entire evidence room.

“I know where it is, I can get it.” He tells him. Daryl smiles at him something evil. It twists up Paul’s insides and grabs hold of his lungs like some kind of sticky tar. Daryl makes him feel heavy and rebellious. If he wasn’t on this hunt for something crushingly sinful he would have already turned on his heels and made a b-line for the farm.

“Got a hair up you arse, don’t ya, little one? Getin’ tired of being good, ain’t ya?” The words make him tingle all over. Paul knows by Daryl’s tone he’s trying to come off as jokingly but it all goes straight through Paul and leaves him nearly breathless.

_He came here to buy trouble on four wheels, but he's found that trouble has two legs and a rose tattoo._


	2. You Look Cute When You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hia! I’m looking for someone to review and help spell check my chapters! If you’d be interested, please message me! I could really use the help!

They don’t get the car running. Daryl tells him something about the timing being off but Paul doesn’t have any idea what he’s talking about. He feels defeated but the feeling is followed by excitement to come back the next day. They had worked until lunchtime; well, Daryl worked, Paul pinned. Daryl gave up when his stomach started to growl and told Paul he had to get started on the car he already had in his bay.

Before he left, Daryl gave him half his sandwich with a greasy thumbprint in the nine-grain bread. It made Paul feel like he was being taken care of. It put thoughts in his head that he was sure was the most delusional thing he’s ever had cross his mind.

He heads down to the station to spend the rest of the day helping his dad sort through old case files. Rick feeds him a proper lunch and before long officer Walsh is knocking on his glass door. “Aye, Parton is coming in from Clayton tonight for the raid tomorrow, said he wanted to grab dinner and talk specifics.” The younger officer said, shooting a smirk at Paul.

“What raid?” He chirps curiously. Rick is trying to stop Shane as he starts in on rather sensitive information. “Got a good lead on that ol’ Dixon shop, going to hit them with a warrant while they are under them cars.” The man snorts, reaching up to run at his runny nose. Rick growls at him. “Would ya’ get out of here?” He snaps.

Shane rolls his eyes at his superior and leaves the door halfway open as he leaves. Paul’s ears are ringing with the intel. He’s got to tell Daryl before his dad hits them where it hurts, otherwise, he’s out eight hundred big ones and a 1978 Mercury Cougar. “Hey-so, I was wondering, could I look for some old things in the evidence room for the schools end of the year rummage sale? Promise I won’t bring in any drugs or guns.” He beams at his father.

Rick raises an eyebrow at him. “Make sure the case is closed, and nothin’ dangerous.” He agrees easily before standing and pulling on his hat. “Make sure your home for dinner or your momma is going to kill me.” He leans down and ruffles Paul’s hair. “You need a cut son, stratin’ to look like your sister.”

Paul pushes his hand away playfully. “I’m growing it out, dad.”

Rick leaves with a smile and tells Amy at the front desk to let Paul into the evidence room. He takes his time going through boxes, finding some cool things he can use on his car before tucking the old vest under his arm. He knows that the Dixon case is far from closed but Amy doesn’t take a second look as he heads out the back door to his bike.

* * *

Daryl finishes with the car he’d been working on before that little shit came striding through his doors. The older woman pays him for his time and leaves his shop empty. It’s before five but he closes down the big door and starts to clean up. He has a whole other kind of work to attend to after he’s done.

He’s washing his hands when Merle comes in, ready his start the rest of their day. “Finally sold that old lemon?” The older brother grumbles at him. Daryl hardly knowledge his brother's entrance, they’ve had a fued going since they started the last cook. Daryl was damn tired of sitting up every night while Merle tweaked on getting the batch done. Daryl didn’t touch that shit, it was about the money for him, he was exhausted while Merle just smoked to keep himself awake through it all. “Sheriffs son came sniffin’ round. Gave me eight hundred for it.” He tells him, spitting into the sink in front of him as he dries off his hands and heads for the small office in the back.

“That little one your always gawking at?” Merle pokes. Daryl restrains from socking his brother upside the mouth for talking about Paul like that. “He’s a _kid_.” He growls out. Merle chuckles at him. “And yer a _sick_ fuck, little brother.” Daryl doesn’t disagree with him but he wants to. He wants to tell him to watch his damn mouth but he knows if it came down to it, Merle knew every move he had, he would always best him.

Instead, Daryl picks up his gas mask off the office table. He’d spent part of the early morning repairing it with super glue. “Let’s just get this over with, I’ve got work to do tomorrow.” He tells him, knowing damn well the Grimes kid would be there bright and early. Merle leads the way out the back door after shutting off all the lights. Daryl lights up a smoke as the older brother locks up, the mask still in hand. The town is quiet and no one is going to bother him at his time.

That is, until there’s a patter of feet rounding the side of the building. Daryl loses his balance a little, smoke going right for his eyes when he sees him. “Speak of the little devil.” Merle sneers.

“What ya’ want, kid?” Daryl barks at him.

The smaller looks up at him with the biggest doe eyes as he reaches out with a shaky hand. “Here.” He says. Daryl is shocked to say the least, he hadn’t thought the kid would pull through, let alone that quickly. He takes the vest and looks it over. It’s different than he remembers but it still fits over his broad shoulders. “Thanks...could’of waited till tomorrow.” He tells him.

Paul looks like he’s holding onto something else all together, his eyes darting between the two taller men. “C’mon, pup, spit it out.” Merle cracks at him. Daryl hits him in the chest with the back of his hand with a thud.

“Heard my dad talking, said something about a raid tomorrow. I thought I...should tell you. Said they had a tip.”

Daryl knew he liked him for a reason. “Look at ya, already helpful little shit, ain't’ ya?” Merle walks over to the kid and bumps his shoulder, wrapping an arm around him. “C’mon, we're gon’ have to talk bout what we’re going to do on the way.”

Before he makes it two feet, Daryl is ripping his brother off the smaller man. “He ain’t goin’ nowhere. He’s not going to be involved in this.” Daryl pushes Merle back. His older brother looks like he’s going to lunge at him but Paul’s small voice interrupts them.

“I don’t mind coming. I’m not scared.” He says, eyeing Daryl. He feels like he might crumble under the weight of his hungry little gaze. “No—I’m not involving you. If you get hurt, I’m not going to jail, ‘specially with you being an _underaged_ Grimes.”

Paul is crossing his arms again, his cheeks a rose shade of pink. “I told you I was eighteen.” Daryl rolls his eyes at him and lets out a heavy breath. “And I know for a fact you ain’t. M’takin you home. Merel, load up his bike.” He tells his older brother. Daryl has never been one to step up and take charge but with Paul looking at him like he’s leading him around on a three-foot leash, he suddenly feels the urge to.

Merle grumbles something about him being too soft and grabs the kids bike. “I told you that I’m not scared of—“ Daryl stops him. “Of what? Of trouble? Look—just because you want to be grown don’t mean I’m going to put yer little ass in harms way. If you were my boy—“ Paul growls at him. “ _Don’t_. Don’t talk to me like I’m jus’ some kid, I know what I’m doin. I’m tired of everyone acting like my dad.”

Daryl ignores his tantrum and grabs his upper arm. “Get on the bike, I’m takin’ you home, _now_.”

* * *

 

Paul is fuming with rage. He’s not small and venerable and he’s tired of everyone acting like he’s not capable of making his own decisions. The way Daryl tugs him around effortlessly, it makes him feel like he’s a child in trouble. He gets on the back of the motorcycle and crosses his arms again. He doesn’t have time to think about the fact that’s he’s on the back of his first motorcycle, let alone on one with Daryl Dixon.

The rage harboring in his chest is enough to override his desire. Even delinquents like the Dixon’s aren’t rough enough to let him get away with shenanigans. “Stop lookin’ like that.” Daryl says as he pulls a helmet that’s far too big over his head. “I ain’t—“ he huffs at him as he buckled the strap under his chin. “I’m not a kid, I don’t want to be treated like one.”

Daryl all but ignores him and it just aids to his burning agitation. Paul tries to yank his head away but Daryl glares at him in response. “I ain’t treating you like a kid. ‘M watching out for ya, taking care of ya.” He tells him. It bleeds guilt into Paul’s fiery veins. “Would do that either way. If you were eighteen and not the sheriff's son.”

Daryl settles into the bike and starts it with one kick. The old shovel-head roars to life and the engine vibrates up Paul’s body. He wants to keep arguing with Daryl but he lets it go. The older man shifts into first and takes off down the old roads. Paul finds it hard not to wrap his arms around his abdomen and hang on for dear life, his finger tips digging into the flesh of his almost soft belly. It’s nowhere near sundown so they take the backroads. Paul knows his dad would string both of the Dixon’s up if he caught his son on the back of one of their motorcycles.

Paul doesn’t let the thought stop him from taking in every inch of the older man in front of him. He feels like he’s radiating power. He’s thick, warm, muscular. Daryl's shoulders could expand for miles it seems. They are huge, strong, Paul is glad he's too angry to be turned on.

Paul doesn’t ask why he knows where the farm is but he drops Paul off at the end of the old dirt road, Merel unloading his bike from the truck he had followed in. Paul takes off the helmet with help from Daryl and sets it on the back of the bike.

Daryl shuts off the bike while Merle pulls around him, heading down the old road. “Keep yourself out of trouble, or so help me.”

Paul wants to spit at him for the way he demands him around. “Or what? I’m _grounded_?”

Daryl gets a sort of soft look on his face before letting his hands fall from the handlebars to his spread lap. “Or else you might get hurt, or worse.”

Paul is a hundred and fifty different types of pouty. “Has anyone ever told you that you're an asshole?” He tells the dirty mechanic turned biker. He hates this effect Daryl has, he’s capable of making his emotions go haywire. “Anyone ever told you that you're cute when you pout?” He teases quietly, his hooded eyes dragging across Paul’s abdomen like he can’t see it, like Paul doesn’t have two working eyes. 

Paul crosses his arms for a whole nother reason. The words settle the anger bubbling inside of him and make him feel bashful. “Meet me here tomorrow morning at nine, I’ll pick you up. We can work on the car, when your paw comes to shut us down, might help if he sees his boy lookin’ all content. Don’t need your old man snoopin’ around but I defiantly don’t need you putting your nose where it doesn’t belong. Going to get us all in trouble.”

Theres something hiding behind his words but Paul can’t quite place it. He grabs his bike with a pitiful look and kicks his feet in the dust. ”What was with the gas mask?” Paul asks him but Daryl dodges the question.

“Thanks for the vest, kid.” He says as he starts the bike back up and leaves Paul standing by the mailboxes in a cloud of red Georgia clay.


	3. The Death Of Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it just me, or is this Daryl hot as fuck?

It’s three in the morning when they finally finish the cook. Daryl steps outside of the old Mobile home tucked deep in the woods and pulls the mask off his face to catch some cool air. Merle is right behind him, pulling off his gloves and setting down on the steps. “Y’Know, keepin’ that little Grimes kid around might be helpful. Wouldn’t of known ‘bout that raid if not for him.” He tells his younger brother as he packs a fat dip in his lip.

“What’re you tryin’ to say?” He asks as he lights his cigarette. Merles tone changes around the Redman tucked against his gum. “Just sayin’, maybe you should keep fuckin’ em, keepin’ him compliant.”

Daryl spins his head around to glare at his big brother. “I ain’t _fuckin_ ’ him, hes a damn kid. We sure as hell ain’t going to use him, either.” Daryl spits at him. “What, too sweet and innocent? That boy is lookin’ for trouble. ‘sides you’ve got issues too, little brother. Sounds like the perfect match.” Merel spits on the ground and Daryl covers it with dirt. “Need to be more careful, dumbass. You want someone rollin up here findin’ our DNA everywhere? You trying to get caught?” He snaps at his brother. “Keep your damn agendas away from that kid, he ain’t getting involved in this shit. I’m goin’ home, need ta get some sleep.” He grumbles. He walks down the path to his bike and pulls off the booties they use to hide their boot prints.

He starts the bike and heads back down to the shop where he climbs the stairs around back up to the dingy two bedroom apartment they share. Merle will probably stay up sorting and weighing their cook all damn night. Daryl on the other hand needs some actual sleep for a sober person. He feeds the cat and makes his way to his room, striping along the way.

When his head hits the pillows he feels wide awake. His body is aching from the day, his eyes feel tired but the rest of him has other opinions about sleep.

He rolls over onto his side and tries his best to clear his mind but he’s had a sensory overload today. He’s never interacted so much with the younger man. He’d only been infatuated with him like this for the last year or so. When he and Merle got picked up one night in a bar fight, Paul had been hanging around the station doing homework, bugging the front desk lady. Watching him helped pass his time until it became more than that.

After that, he started getting into trouble on purpose just to get a chance to eat the smaller man up with his eyes. He’d overheard plenty about him, enough to know his age, who he was. He never thought Paul had noticed him back.

He rubs a hand over his eyes and turns over again, this time laying flat on his back and staring up words. There’s a heat between his legs, hot desire trickling through him in the form of blood running straight to his cock.

“Son of a _bitch_ ,” he growls at himself and pulls his legs over the side of his queen-sized mattress. He takes a cold shower to settle his nerves and manages to fall asleep to the sound of the fan shaking against the ceiling.

_Paul Grimes is going to be the death of him._

* * *

 When Paul wakes up in the morning the sun is barely up. He can’t sleep knowing the day is waiting for him. He takes a far too thorough shower and changes his clothes three times. He settles on a black Gruntstyle tee shirt and some nice jeans. He pushes back his hair and gives himself a once over in the mirror. He feels too big for his body, like all of him doesn’t fit in such a small figure. There’s so much more there.

He makes it down the stairs early to find his father still eating breakfast. He’s dressed for work but doesn’t have to be there until eight. “Hey-son, what are you up to this early?” Lori smiles sweetly at him and grabs him a plate. Maggie is nowhere in sight, probably spending the night at a friends house no doubt. “Couldn’t sleep, my fan isn’t working well.” He lies as he sits down beside his father.

“I forgot to ask you, was there someone on a motorcycle dropping you off last night? I thought I had seen one at the end of the drive but I could have been mistaken.” Paul’s eyes dart up to her then over to his father. He swallows and takes his plate of food. “One just ‘bout hit me. Slowed down and apologized.” He gives them the weak excuse as he shovels eggs into his mouth.

“Probably one of those Dixon’s, can’t see them being polite enough to stop.” His dad says as he stabs at his bacon. Paul speaks without thinking. He’s still hazy from sleep. “I’ve never seen them do anything like that. Ms. Brumbee goes to them, I always see her car up in the air when I go by. If she likes them then they can’t be all that bad.”

Rick sets down his fork and wipes his mouth with a napkin. “What do you know ‘bout them? Since when do you pay attention to what Dixon’s do?” Paul knows the way his fathers voice changes when he’s questioning someone. “I ain’t! Jeez, I was only sayin’. And it wasn’t no Dixon, either. Just some fellow.”

They drop it at that and his dad starts to get up to head to work. “Dad!” He says, standing suddenly. “Can you uh—take me to town? I wanted to get something for Maggie and Noah said he would drive me into the city.”

Ricks agrees, let’s Paul get on some shoes and kiss his mother goodbye before heading into town in his old patrol car. “Do you have your cellphone? You’ll call me if something is up?” He dad asks as he drops Paul off at the liquor store. “Promise!” He gives a little salute and watches his dad dive off to make his rounds. Paul waits until he’s over the first hill before he takes off towards the Dixon shop. Daryl told him to be ready by nine but Paul doesn’t want to risk them seeing a motorcycle for the second time in twenty four hours, especially when they are already so worried.

He tries the bottom floor first, knocking on the back door he’d met Daryl by the night before. When no one answers, he heads up the stairs around back that must lead to the second floor. He knocks gently and leans back against the railing while he waits. After a few moments, he can hear the deadbolt sliding open and the knob turns. “Better have a damn warrent, wakin’ me up this ea— _Paul_? What you doin’ here, kid. S’eight in the mornin’.”

Daryl’s voice is so thick in the morning. He’s shirtless in a pair of tight boxer briefs. They are a dark maroon, clinging to his thick, hairy thighs. “I-uhm.” Paul swallows but finds his mouth is dry and tasteless. His boxers outline a morning wood that makes Paul’s hands feel sweaty and sticky.

“My mom saw your bike, started...asking questions so I didn’t want them to catch you.” He lets his eyes drop to his hands as he fiddled with his fingers. He didn’t get this far, he didn’t think about what he was supposed to do once Daryl answered the door. “Well, shit. C’mon, I’ll get you some orange juice. I need ta shower.” He tells him and opens the door wide.

Paul feels like he’s stepping into a whole new universe as he makes his way into the room. It’s cleaner than he thought it would be. It smells slightly of mold and smoke but there is no messes or piles of trash. Everything is...neat, dark. Like they don’t touch it but to sleep.

Daryl rinses a cup and fills it with orange juice. “Here, I’m takin’ a shower. Don’t steal anything.”

Paul knows that the other man knows he couldn’t steal if he wants to but he agrees easily. “Yes sir,” he nods. Daryl seems to pause, his skin seeming to get darker, just like his eyes. Paul can’t exactly place it, something like anger or irritation he thinks.

Paul wonders around the living room while he listens to the shower run. He finds the black cat sitting on her perch and he loves on her for a moment before moving on. He sips on his juice while he goes through the movies on the tv stand. There isn’t a lot expensive things in the apartment but nothing sits on milk creates either. He spends more time than he thought looking at their movies because before long, Daryl comes out with a towel wrapped around his low hips, leaving little to the imagination. Paul can see the soft trail of hair that leads to his groin. He gets a better look at far more tattoos, “Norma” tattooed across his left breast and another flower across his collar bone. He has some kind of chemical formula on his right peck and a few more Paul doesn’t have enough time to make out.

“I didn’t see you as the Tarantino type.” He tells him, setting the movies back down on his shelf. “Lot you know know ‘bout me, kid.”

There it is again, Paul still being the less significant in a conversation, being labeled. “‘M not a kid, and I wasn’t meaning anything bad. I...I always like to learn. Stuff ‘bout you.”

Daryl rolls his eyes and scratches his hip. “Let me get dresses, well get started on that damn Lemon of yours.” Paul watches the bedroom door close behind him. He emerges not long after in some black jeans and boots and his vest over the top of a long sleeve button up he has rolled past his elbows.

He takes a long drink from the orange juice bottle and wipes away what dribbles down his chin. “Like the shirt, looks good on you.” He eyes him openly, standing against the counter with the fridge wide open and the carton still in hand. His tongue darts out to lick across his bottom lip when he eyes meet Paul’s.

_Daryl Dixon is going to be the death of him._


	4. The Road We Are Destined For

Daryl manages to get out of his apartment alive. One more second alone with the Grimes kid and he might just combust. Paul has on a tight shirt, even tighter jeans. The fabric clings to him and shows off every curve. He didn’t even know up until this morning how nice of an ass the younger had.

It just seemed to fuel whatever was building inside of him. Working on the Cougar helps. Instead of giving Paul a chair this time, he hands him a shop rag and a wrench. “Start taking off the power steering pump, might as well replace it while we’re at it. ‘S leaking all over.” He told him. Paul sort of just stared at him and the cool metal in his hand.

“The _what_ now?” He asked bashfully. Daryl didn’t mean to laugh at him, but Paul was helplessly adorable. “Damn, ain’t no one ever taught you anything, huh?” He slide behind him to leans over where the pump sits. He takes his hand and fits the wrench over the bolts holding it to the frame. “Loosen these bolts then the hose clamp, should come off right after.” He breaths.

He takes a second to realize how close he’s standing to Paul, how he seems to hover over him. He could easily rest his chin on his head if he wanted to. Paul still has a few inches left to grow, so Daryl probably won’t get to see him in this light for much longer.

“What’re you lookin at?” The smaller is flushed red and trying to bite down a grin. “Yer jus’ _little_ is all.” He tells him, leaning a little further. “Your daddy is a big fella, how’d he make somethin’ so delicate like you?” Daryl breaths lowly. His hand is still on Paul’s wrist, hanging over the motor.

“You saying I’m weak?” Paul all but whines at him and theres a pang of hurt behind his words. “Nah, just saying your dainty. Like a flower. Need some waterin’. Think someone should be _takin’ care of ya.”_

Paul’s whine is entirely different this time. It makes Daryls pants feel a little tighter, his dick straining against the metal of his zipper. He needs to calm down before this get out of hand because Sheriff Grimes could be rolling up at any moment. “Well...your taking care of me, aren’t you? Fixing my car, feeding me. That’s the most anyone has taken care of me in a while.”

Daryl is on him almost instantly it seems like. He drops his wrist and instead grabs the frame of the car, trapping Paul between his strong biceps. The movement is slow, steady. He can feel the heat radiating off Paul. “You like it? When I take care of you?” He asks him. His voice is deep and controlling, dripping in lust and power.

Paul just nods at him and caves below him. One of his small hands come up to his waist and tuck between his belt and his pants. Looking for something to hold onto. “ _Good_.” Daryl snarles. Not here, god damn it. Not in the middle of their front yard, where anyone could see them and tell the sheriff how the thirty year old Dixon was pressed up against his underaged son.

Daryl pulls himself away and Paul pulls his hand from his belt. Daryl’s skin burns where his knuckles had brushed against his belly in his hold. “You want something to drink?” He asks as he reaches down and adjusts himself openly.

Paul blinks at him for a moment, his lips parted and breath coming out in soft pants. “Uh-rootbeer, thank you.”

* * *

 

Paul keeps his attention on the part he’s trying to remove. Daryl has him all kinds of hot and bothered. He isn’t sure how he’s supposed to approach it, how he’s supposed to get what he knows he wants but Daryl seems like he has a itinerary all his own. Daryl is doing this at his own pace and it’s painstakingly slow and seriously agonizing.

Daryl is working on getting it running when he gets the pump off. He’s got grease all over his hands, something he’s not used to. They are dark and sticky feeling. He sets down the pump and stares at his hands in disgust. Daryl seems to notice because he chuckles and reaches behind Paul. His hand slides across his ass and it makes paul yelp. He wants to press back into it but it’s gone all too quick.

Daryl comes up with a rag and hands it over. Oh, that’s right. Daryl handed him a rag before they started. The older mans hands aren’t greasy like his so he hopes they didn’t leave anything on his ass. He wipes his hands off and bites at his bottom lip. “Now what?” He asks, looking down at the old rusted pump. “I set out a box in the garage, got a new one in it. Why don’t you go grab it.”

Paul decides that he’s never liked the way people order him around, aside from the commands that Daryl gives. If Daryl told him to do a back flip, he would probably oblige. “Yes sir,” he says, heating the ambers burning in his belly. He walks into the shop and searched for the pump. When he comes back out of the large metal door, there’s three squad cars pulling up and Daryl is being cuffed against the Cougar.

“P-Paul?” He hears his dad squeak. “What the fuck are you doing here?” He’s never seen his dad this angry or confused. Paul nearly drops the pump he has in his hands. “I-uhm, I didn’t want to tell you because I knew that...that you’d never let me. I bough that car and Daryl has been nice enough to help me fix I—“ Rick grabs the box from his hands and lets it fall to the grass at his feet. “Get in the fucking car, right now. I thought you knew better than this, here you are, running around with the likes of that.”

He grabs Paul by his arm and starts to drag him towards the patrol car. “Dad! I ain’t some little kid, I know what I’m doing! Daryl is teaching me how to work on a car, he taught me how to change a tire! Something you never thought to show me!”

Before Paul gets into another sentence, Daryl lifts his head off the car with a groan. Shane has him by his shoulders, holding onto him. “Listen to your dad, kid. Knows what’s best for you.”

Rick gives him a off look, like he’s never expected Daryl to agree with him on something. “I’m not just some kid and you guys don’t get to treat me like that.” He yanks his arm away from his dad and starts to storm off. “Get your _ass_ back here!” Rick shouts.

He follows Paul down the road a ways while the officers start to search the shop. “Son, I said stop!” He grabs him by his wrist, where Daryl’s finger had trapped him not moments before. “You lied to me, and your mother. That was a _Dixon_ dropping you off last night, wasn’t it?” Paul doesn’t respond.

“I asked you a damn question!” Paul breaks under his anger, his eyes going glassy as tears start to well up. “Yes! Okay? I was going to ride home and he saw me, said that he’d rather take me since it was getting dark. Didn’t want me to get hit on the side of the road if someone didn’t see me.” It wasn’t a lie, Daryl had demanded that he drive Paul home.

“Get your ass home. Grandpa Hershel should be in this afternoon and I want you to be there to greet him. He’ll be excited to see you.” His dads voice is almost soft again. “That’s all he did? Teach you to work on the car and drive you home?” It’s all the truth his dad needs to know.

“Yes, daddy. Just taught me to take off the power steering pump...” he shows him his grease covered hands. Ricks sighs heavily and wraps his arm around his sons shoulders. Rick is much taller than Daryl, by about three inches, so if the Dixon made him feel small, he was a grain of rice to his father. “Shane will drive you home, son.”

There’s a sharp clench in his chest at the words.

* * *

 

Daryl watches them walk down the road, watches the way Paul so desperately tries to defend him. He hardly takes note of the man behind him. “What you lookin’ at, hillbilly?” He says, his voice is cocky and dominate. “Got a hard one for that little thing, huh? Should of guessed it. He’s easy as fuck on the eyes.” Daryl shifts, there’s a sudden feeling of worry in his gut.

“If I didn’t know any better I’d say he knows what he’s doing with those big ol’ pretty eyes, huh?” Shane smirks and digs his fingers painfully into Daryl’s collar bone. “Keep your fucking hands off him.” Daryl bites out, clenching his teeth. Shane lets out a loud laugh and pushes him against the car again, this time his eyebrow catching the corner of the door and cutting him open.

“I think it’s _your_ hands we need to worry about, huh, Dixon? Boy like that needs a real man, not some sorry excuse tweaker like you.”

Shane pulls him off the car and yanks him towards the patrol cars. There blood dripping down his face when he sees Paul. “Shane, I need you to drive Paul home, since he can’t keep his nose out of things. Shane hands over Daryl to Rick and grabs ahold of the younger man by his shoulders. “C’mon, kid. I’ll stop and get you something to eat in the way. He shoots Daryl an knowing look and drags Paul off to his car. Daryl watches him intently as they drive off, paul eyeing him from the passenger seat the whole way.

Paul had disliked Shane the moment he joined the force three years before. He was loud, demanding. He acted like he was entitled to everything and everyone had to bend to his commands. Paul did not form like everyone else’s had.

“Never pegged you for one to hang around the likes of Dixon’s. Thought you were better than that.” Shane says sternly. Paul crosses his arms and his nostrils flare. “Maybe the Dixon’s are better than you peg them to be.” He retorts. Shane runs his hand through his curly hair and laughs at him. “Woah, if I don’t know any better I’d say you’ve got it out for one of them? Not the older one is it? Think you can do a little better than that, Grimes.”

Paul doesn’t like the sudden turn this conversation has taken. He swallows and shifts away from Shane a little. “Or, let me guess, it’s _Daryl_ , ain’t it? Damn, kid. You really got weird taste don’t you? You know, if you lookin’ for a man to touch you, you don’t have to stoop that low. Dixon’s are scum. Like I said, you can do a lot better.” His hand lands on his thigh and Paul jumps. His heart starts to race and he yanks his leg away as best he can.

“What the hell are you talking about, Shane? I’ll tell my dad, if you don’t knock it off.” He threatens. Shane didn’t stop for food like he said he would, but they are close enough to the farm that he can make it out of the car without anything else happening.

“Thanks for the ride.” He swallows when Shane pulls up to the mail boxes. “Any time, kid. I’d give you a ride any time. You know where I am.”

Paul shivers something out of disgust and slams the door. He walks behind the car to keep Shane from staring at him as he heads down the path quickly. He feels like his eyes are burning through him and it makes him feel nauseous. Daryl would have kicked Shane’s ass if he heard him talking like that.

* * *

 

The only good thing about the whole day is the feeling he gets when his grandpa steps out onto the steps of the old farm house he’d passed down to them. “Hey, kiddo!” The old man beams at him.

Paul forgets about the rest of the morning when his grandpa wrapps him up in a tight hug and kisses his head. No matter how big Paul got, he was always a soft spot in his grandpas eyes. “How are you? How you feeling?” He ruffles his hair like most grown men do, but his grandpa has always done that. It was part of who he was.

“Got into trouble with my pa,” He groans. His grandpa leads him inside where his mom has lunch ready. “What did you get into trouble about?” Lori puts her hands on her hips sternly. “Lori, let the boy explain himself?” Hershel says.

“But daddy, he’s been on one la—“ Hershel jumps in on her. “And he deserves a chance to explain himself. Come on son, let’s get some gear together, we’ll go fishing and we can talk about it.”

Paul packs up the lunch, egg salad sandwiches and helps his grandpa with the gear. They talk while they head down to the creek about a half a mile away.

“And is this man a criminal?” He asks in the middle of Paul’s story. “Minor things, like bar fights. He couldn’t hurt a fly though.” He tells him before continuing.

“He’s been helping me with the car when he doesn’t have to, daddy just acts like he’s going to murder me in my sleep when he’s done more to teach me than daddy has in years.” They set their tackle down by the beach and get their poles set up. “Sounds like to me, you and your daddy see two different sides to this Dixon fellow. If he’s sweet on you then I don’t see any harm in that. He sounds like a nice guy, even nice guys have hard days. I knew Will Dixon when we were just teenagers. He was a evil bastard, type that killed animals for fun. When your daddy first became a officer after Maggie was born, they arrested him for beatin on them boys. The little one spent days in the hospital. After that, them boys were in and out of foster. Started making trouble for attention. Your daddy didn’t see it that way, figured the torch got passed down.”

This was why Paul always love his grandpa. Hershel always has the best advice, he always knew what to say to Paul and what the right path way. He was wise and smart, it was a wonder he never knocked some sense into his son in law. “Thanks, grandpa.” He sighs and leans against the soft man. “Any time, little man. Hey, I’ve got somethin’ for you.” He said, reaching into his front pocket and pulling out a switch knife.

“Meant to give it to you before, but I think your old enough to handle it now. Your growing up, your daddy is having a real hard time with that. We almost lost you once, he doesn’t want to go through that again.”

Paul eyes the knife in his hands and tries to let in all the worry his father is probably feeling. He tried to be understanding. They will both have to make sacrifices if they want to meet at the end of the road they are destined to go down. Paul is growing up and they can’t keep him hidden away forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you guys think?? What do you think will happen next? What is the opinion about the new characters in this chapter? I love to hear from you guys!


	5. Give Him A Foot

The ride back to the police station is painfully quiet. Daryl had watched them tear through his things for nearly two hours. One read him his rights, told him about the so-called contraband they found inside of a car they had just worked on in their shop. This had happened before, where someone got pulled over with drugs in their car and could only think to blame the people who had worked on it for them.

He lets it ride out, they don't find anything, obviously, but they take him in on unpaid court fines. He's still cuffed, stripped of his vest and leaning against the window when sheriff Grimes parks in front of the station. He doesn’t get out of the car, doesn’t speak. He just pulls in a long breath and heaves it out.

Finally, the man pulls his hat off and slides his hand over his face. “When Paul was six, he uh...” he can hear the pain in the man's voice. “He got Leukemia. Thought we would lose him. Took us years to find the right donor and by then it was nearly too late. It was so hard on his momma, on Maggie, me. We planned a funeral for him, arranged everything. When we got the call he told us that he didn’t want to take away from someone else if it would hurt them.”

Rick wipes at his face and leans against the starring wheel. “I feel like I’m losing him all over again.”

They remain quiet for a long time again, pride bubbling up in Daryl’s stomach. “He’s tougher than you think.” He says quietly and Rick lets his head fall back. He lets out a sad laugh and looks at Daryl in the rear view. “I know no matter how hard we try to keep him safe, he’s going to just...go out looking for it. I want to know that, whatever he’s doing, wherever he is, that he’s safe.” Daryl knows where the conversation is going and in a way, it almost feels like Rick is giving him his blessing. He knows better, knows for damn sure that if the sheriff knew his intentions with his son he’d probably take him out to the woods and shoot him himself.

“I ain’t my dad,” Daryl tells him. “Want to see him do good, just like you. He ain’t in danger there and...someone is gonna need to teach him how to drive that car.”

Rick turns in his seat to look back at Daryl, taking in the rough features on the man's face, the kindness behind his eyes. “I can’t stop him, we both know that, but I can do my best to make sure he’s okay. He’s small, always gonna be, but if anything, _anything_ happens to him, I know where to find you, and I know where to hide your body.” The older man warns him sternly. Rick is a force to be reckoned with, Daryl knows this. There was a reason the man was the Sherrif.

“Ain’t gonna let anything happen to him.” Daryl agrees. It’s the easiest promise he’s ever made to someone. Rick is still looking at him with weary eyes. “And if you get into any more trouble, that’s it. I won’t have my son thinking it’s okay to break the law.” At that, Daryl smirks and meets his eyes. “Promise I’ll be on my best behavior. Can I go now?”

It’s the first time Rick has ever chuckled at him, Daryl takes it as a good sign. “Not till you pay those fines. No broken laws, remember?”

At that, he lets Daryl out of the squad car, uncuffs his wrists and sticks the cuffs back in his belt. “That boy is _stubborn_ as hell. When he wants something, he gets it. Always been that way. Don’t let him push you around. Give him a foot and he’ll take a mile.” Rick sticks out his hand.

Daryl looks down at the outreached hand, his mind going a million miles an hour. He wishes he could run away. He wishes he could turn his back on these feelings and not have to tie Paul up in his problems but the feeling only lasts a moment. He takes Ricks hand and shakes it firmly.

“You can pick him up in the morning, after breakfast. _Not_ on that death trap.” Daryl grins at him and reaches into his pocket for his wallet. He takes out three hundred dollar bills and hands them over for his fine before peering into the car.

“Oh, you can have the vest back when the car is done. Have my son steal for you again and I’ll find something to put you in jail for.” Daryl can feel his cheeks flush, guilt building up. Rick doesn’t say another thing, just heads inside and lets Daryl take his leave. Things for once in his life seem like they are looking up.

* * *

 

When morning comes, Paul pulls himself out of bed late. He doesn’t think he’s going to see Daryl for a long, long time and it makes him feel weak, helpless and broken. Like he has no say in what happens in his life, no rule over his own conscience. The only thing that makes it any better is his grandpa's happy face.

“Morning, sunshine.” The man has rosy cheeks this morning, a cup of steaming coffee in front of him. “Your daddy wants to see you out front.” Paul can feel his heart hammering in his chest and his hands feel clammy. He hasn’t showered yet and he’s still in a pair of pajamas that feel too big for him. He can already picture his fathers stone cold face.

He opens the screen door and heads out onto the front porch. His dad is wearing street clothes meaning he doesn’t have work today. He too has a coffee. “Sit down, son.” He says quietly. His voice is soft and it makes Paul feel like there is a storm coming. Paul does what he is told and takes a seat in the old rocker beside his father.

“I know your growing up. I know there’s nothing I can do about that, but your grandpa suggests that maybe I give you a little bit of room to make your own decisions. Now I’m not saying you can go out and do whatever the hell you please, there will still be rules while you live under this roof. But we can’t baby you anymore.” There’s a cloud of dust coming up their old driveway and it makes his heart pound a little. What if it’s bad news? What if it’s Shane coming to tell him that they found something in the old Dixon shop?

“You keep out of trouble, you hear me son? I’m going to give you a little bit of freedom but I don’t want you to run wild with it. Now go upstairs and get dressed.” The old yellow truck pulls up to the front of the house, sunlight burning off the windshield so Paul can’t see who is inside. The door opens with a creek and out steps none other than Daryl Dixon, in all his glory, dressed in a sleeveless tee shirt and a handgun tucked into his pants comfortably.

“You’ve got a lot of work to do to make that old beater run, so you’d better get on it while the summer is still young.” His dad smiles at him and stands, reaching out to pull Paul to his feet who is grinning wildly. He hugs his dad tight, eyeing Daryl as he does so. He runs inside, up the stairs and into his room to change quickly. His heart feels like it’s going to come out of his chest at the way it’s pounding.

Daryl is waiting downstairs for him, waiting to take him into town to work on his car and his dad is going to see him out. He slips on his shoes and there’s a soft knock at his door. There stands Maggie, tall and beautiful. “So...daddy is letting you out with that Dixon, huh?” She smiles at him the way she always smiles at him, like it could be the last time she gets to do it. “Just want you to be careful, you hear?” She walks over and sits in his bed.

“I know daddy isn’t going to see it the way I do. I see the way your eyes twinkle when you look at him, but I just want you to...think about what you're doing, before you do something really crazy.” She says. Paul feels like his skin is crawling with his sister making these accusations. “Your completely crazy—I have to go, okay?” He says, tying his laces and heading out the bedroom door. He grabs a slice of toast and skips down the front steps.

Daryl has this look on his face as he leans against the truck. It’s smug, knowing. “C’mon, short stuff, let’s get to business.” He says, looking up at Rick on the porch who nods at him.

* * *

 

Daryl knows how hard it is for Rick giving up his son like he is. It’s not like he’s leaving for good, like he’s moving out or headed off to college. It’s still a big step to let his son make decisions on his own, especially ones like this one. But Daryl respects Rick for making the hard calls like this one.

Paul looks adorable jumping into the old truck. He’s beaming from ear to ear. Daryl gets in and starts it up, pulling out of the driveway and heading down the old road. Paul looks behind him to see that they have gotten far enough away before moving over on the seat.

“I didn’t think I would see you again for a while.” The smaller says. The old dial radio is playing some country music softly, filling the silence around them. “Your daddy made me agree to not let you do anything illegal and you could come work on the car.” He looks down to where Paul is nearly tucked up against him. “You talked to him? Did he seem upset at me? Does this mean he’s going to get off yer case now?”

Daryl laughs at all the questions. Sometimes he forgets that Paul really is young. He’s still so curious. “We...talked, I suppose. Your daddy is always going to be on my case, don’t think that is ever going to change.” Daryl tells him. There’s a moment of silence and then, a hand on his thigh. He nearly jumps at the sudden confidence Paul seems to have. His hand barely moved, but it’s enough that Daryl takes notice. “ _C’mon now, boy_.” He breaths, trying to keep his eyes on the road and not look down at Paul’s big puppy eyes.

“What?” He chirps innocently. “Ain’t doin’ anything.” He leans in closer and tucks himself against Daryl’s shoulder. Daryl let’s out a soft sound and pulls his arm up and around Paul. Paul fits against him so easily. They ride like that the rest of the way back to the shop. When they pull in the drive, the shop is empty. It’s a Monday, usually, the place would be booming with business but he made sure to clear his day, just for Paul.

“Come on, kiddo. We’ve got a lot of work to do if you want that old—“ he stops when a black Suburban pulls up behind him. They would be inconspicuous in a big city but in a small backwoods town like Greenville they stick out like a sore thumb. “Paul, stay in the truck, you hear me?” He tells him, sort and stern. He can’t have Paul making more of a mess than he already has on his hands.

He steps out of the truck without another word, closing the door behind him and meeting the man at the back. He’s dressed in a white button down and some slacks. “Daryl! My main man, how are you? I’m still missing two pounds, any idea when that’s coming my way or are you too busy out here playing hookie?” Negan beams at him. His smile is bleached white and deadly. Daryl lets his body slouch, his head hang a little. This man could squash him like a bug.

“Merle is working on it.” He tells him quickly. “We finished the second pound two nights ago, he’s been working ever since.” Daryl thinks he has been, he hasn’t checked in his brother since everything started to happen with Paul. For once in his life he’s happy and of course, Merle is there to wreck it all.

The truck creeks behind him as the door opens. He winces, he told Paul to stay in the truck and of course, he wouldn’t listen to what he had to say. He was a Grimes, after all. It comes with the territory.

“Now, now, who is this?” Negan grins devilishly when Paul walks up. Paul holds his head high, puffs his chest out. He’s got a chip on his shoulder. He throws his hand out and shakes Negans vigorously. “I’m Paul, it’s nice to meet you.”

Paul’s voice doesn’t waiver, doesn’t break. Negan looks him over and seems to accept his challenging stance. “Im Negan. And _you_ are something else.” He looks over at Daryl. “He is a keeper. Perhaps I should be doing my business with him, seems like a kid who can get the job done, huh?” The older man says to Paul who smirks over at Daryl.

Daryl let’s out a low, throaty growl. “He’s not involved in this.” He says, tucking an arm around Paul’s waist and tugging him close. Paul gives him a fiery look and scowls at him.

“C’mon now Daryl! He’s just trying to learn his old man's trade. I’m sure he could encourage you to keep that left hand of yours and produce what is owed.” Daryl wants to run away for the second time in two days. He wants to pick Paul and up run with him, never look back.

“Daryl will have it and he’s keeping his hand.” Negan seems to take the answer with stride. “Thank you for being so cooperative, Paul. I’ll be seeing you two in three days?” Daryl tries to respond, something along the lines of Paul not being there but the younger beats him to it.

“That you will, thank you, sir.” He smiles far too sweetly for Daryl’s liking. Negan turns and loads up into the truck with his crew and leaves Daryl standing there, his skin feeling sweaty and cold.

“Get inside,” he growls, turning to Paul. “ _Now_.”


	6. Elaborate Mr. Dixon

Paul booked it around back and up the stairs. He knew Daryl was probably pissed, but he liked the look on the man's face when he got angry. He waited for Dadyl at the top of the stairs to let them inside. The whole time, the older man was mumbling to himself about how much of an idiot Paul was. He knew Daryl was holding it in until they got inside of the stale smelling apartment. He closed the door behind him and locked it, turning to face Paul. “Are you stupid or something? Do you know who that was?” He snapped at him, stepping forward until he was right in Paul’s personal space. “You have no idea what he’s capable of!”

Paul held his ground, if he could do that with Negan, he could do it with Daryl too. “And what were you doing about it, huh? You aren’t going to get anywhere if you don’t stand up for yourself. No one is going to respect you if you don’t have that same kind of respect for yourself!” He tries to match the man's voice but he's nowhere near it.

Daryl walks past him, knocking his shoulder. He walks over to the couch and sits down, resting his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. ”I can't have you involved in this stuff, Paul. I made yer dad a promise.”

Paul hates that Daryl is obeying his father, of all people to give him some space, he hopes that it would be Daryl. ”I had an idea of what you were doing...your cooking meth right? That's what the mask was for? Do you...are you doing it too?” He couldn't not ask, he had to know before he dragged himself through the mud for this man.

” _No_! God, Paul, are you kidding me?” He snapped at him, looking up at him from where he sits on the couch. “I wouldn’t touch that shit. I just do it for the money.” He tells him, letting himself fall back against the back of the couch. Paul fiddles with his hands and looks around the room. The cat is sleeping on top of her stand. “I mean what I said. I promised your dad that you wouldn’t get hurt, I promised myself that I wouldn’t let you get hurt.” He tells him.

Paul swallows thickly and feels like he’s being scolded. “I know—“ he stars but Daryl stops him. “No, I don’t think you know! You don’t know anything about this lifestyle, you don’t know how serious your decisions are! This isn’t a game Paul, these people can kill you. I can't put you in danger like that. I promised myself that I would protect you.”

Paul let’s out a soft sigh. He wanted to be angry at Daryl but he looks so upset and worried. “I’m sorry...” Paul swallowed and stepped forward a little. “I told your dad that I wouldn’t let you do anything illegal. I can’t break that promise in the first day.” Daryl is back to rubbing his face again. Paul gets a pang of confidence crawling up his spine.

“Well...I don’t think that’s a promise your going to be able to keep for long.” Daryl’s eyes shoot up him, about to argue the fact.

* * *

 

Daryl knew he had planned to keep Paul out of trouble, to protect him and not let him step foot into harm's way. He would step in front of a bullet for Paul if he had to.

“No, Paul, I told your dad. I promised him that I wouldn’t let you do anything that would get you into—“ Paul steps the rest of the way forward and sinks down, straddling Daryl’s lap and draping his arms behind his neck. He has soft blue eyes that pierce right through him. Daryl lets his big hands land on Paul’s thighs. He finds that they aren’t soft, boney or weak feeling. They are thick with muscle.

“Bet if my daddy knew the way you touch me he would have your ass.” He says simply. Daryl can’t help the nervous sweat he breaks out in. He swallows the lump in his throat and feels blood suddenly pulsing to his dick. “Christ,” he whispers, looking down as he runs his hands up Paul’s thighs agonizingly slow. Paul is delicious looking under his hold, olive skin that’s soft and so creamy.

“Your daddy would put me in jail if he saw you like this.” Daryl slides his hands up to Paul’s hips and wraps around them easily, pulling him a little closer. He leans in and presses his open mouth to his neck. He just sort of slops at his skin slowly, listening to the way it makes Paul gasp. God, he’s wanted to taste Paul for such a long time. He lets his hands slip under the youngers shirt. He about to lift it off but he decides that he doesn’t like this position, he wants to see Paul in all his glory, wants to take it in below him.

He tosses him down onto the couch beside him and lets himself settle between his spread thighs. He helps him out of his shirt and is about to lean back down when he looks at him, really, _really_ looks at Paul.

“Oh, _god_...” he groans loudly, reaching up to slide his hand across Paul’s abdomen.

Across tight abs, thick muscles. Paul isn’t skinny, he isn’t thin and malnourished like Daryl had assumed for some reason. Just because Paul is small, it doesn’t mean that he is skin and bones. Paul is covered in muscles and thick meat. “Fuck, Paul...” he leans down and lets his hot mouth connect to his nipple, sliding his tongue across it then biting down on the soft bud. It makes Paul gasp desperately.

Paul is withering bellow him easily, whining little pleas when Daryl pulls back with a wet pop. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted you under me.” He tells him in soft pants. “Oh? Elaborate, _Mr. Dixon_.” Paul sinks his teeth into his bottom lip and lets his eyes drag across Daryl.

“Your daddy would arrest me, bring me in. You’d always be there and you were so damn good looking. Every time you would eat something you were so obscene. Could have taken you right there, probably would have if you let me.” Daryl can feel the anticipation bubbling up inside of him, the tension they are sharing. One crash of his lips and this would all be over but he didn’t want to do something Paul wasn’t ready for. “Can I kiss you?” He breathes out, his tongue darting out to lick his bottom lip.

Paul doesn’t respond, he just grabs Daryl by his shirt and yanks him down. The kiss leaves Daryl’s head spinning. He feels like he’s suddenly completely weightless. He could be floating around in space but with the way his and Paul’s lips fit together, he might be okay with it. If this was the last thing Daryl Dixon ever did, maybe that was okay.

It isn’t though, because Paul wraps his arms around him tightly and opens his mouth a little. Daryl presses their bodies together, feeling as though they are both burning at the touch. He slides one hand down Paul’s side till his finds his hip, pressing him down into the couch and crushing him under the pressure of is his hips. Paul whimpers, needy hands digging into Daryl’s hair and trying to get him impossibly closer.

Daryl pulls back and drops back down to his neck, just panting and trying to will himself to stop. “God damn it, _puppy_.” He says, loosening his grip on the younger man. Paul is squirming around, searching for some sort of friction. “Why’d you stop?” He whines at him. Daryl knows if he looked at him, Paul would be wearing his signature pout, pulling Daryl back in effortlessly. He can’t let that happen.

“I can’t lose control with you, Paul. One of us has to stay sane. I’m thirty years old for Christ sake, you can’t get your virginity taken but an old man.” At that, Paul pushes him backward. “You aren’t old, and who are you to assume I’m a virgin?” He barks. Daryl swallows and looks him over. He pulls himself off him and sits down on the couch. “Well, are you?” He throws back at him.

Paul tries to avoid eye contact. “Well...yeah, but that shouldn’t change anything. You aren’t going to hurt me, I have a pretty big dildo at home and—“ Daryl groans, he can feel his cock jump at the words. “ _Fuck_ , you can’t just say stuff like that, okay? I’m trying to have self-control and your making this really really hard.”

Paul finds his opening.

* * *

 

“I’ve practiced sucking it off to. So that way when I got the chance, I would be good at it.” Daryl is flushed red and he looks like he’s overheating in the cold apartment. “Paul, your seventeen. You're going to regret this when you get older and you find a nice guy your age—“ Paul sits up and is back to climbing on his lap. This time, Daryl keeps his hands to himself. “Stop! Stop saying that you're old, stop putting yourself down like you aren’t the sexiest man I’ve ever laid eyes on.” It has Paul all sorts of bothered. He hates that Daryl treats himself so badly when he knows he’s worth so much more. He works hard and he has a heart of pure gold.

“You don’t know what’s out there, Paul.” There’s a gentle hand on his hip again with a lot less intent than the first time. The older runs circles across his skin and it makes Paul’s breathing steady. “I don’t care to know. I know that you're here with me and that’s all that I want. Don't push me away because you think I’m going to change my mind because I’m not.”

There’s a soft look on Daryl’s face so he leans down again and kisses him. It’s a lot slower but far more passionate. All there is to fill the silence between them is the sloppy sound of their mouths together. Daryl kisses like he needs it to breathe. He’d never expected someone like Daryl to be so gentle with him, to take his time and kiss him like it was all he wanted to do. Paul sets a rhythm to it, he can’t drive into this blindly because Daryl will tuck his tail and turn the other way. He has to put the same sort of care into approaching Daryl as the man does him.

Daryl sinks his teeth into Paul’s bottom lip and he lets out a soft little whimper. He lets him go and looks up at him, at the way his lips are shining, pink and wet. “I’m not going to fuck you, you deserve to be courted, cherished. Your first time should mean something, okay?” And Paul agrees easily. He can’t ask Daryl to do something like that if he’s so set on caring for Paul—“ _Your taking care of me again, aren’t you?”_ He smiles, pushing some hair out of Daryl’s face so he can see him better.

“I told you that I’d always take care of you. You deserve someone who’s going to make sure you have everything you could ever want.” There's a pause. “I don’t know if I could trust anyone else to do that.”

Paul wants to stay like this forever, wrapped in Daryl’s strong arms, where no one can touch him, where no one would dare hurt him. “Then don’t push me away. I’m not going to be seventeen forever. I know what I’m getting into here, I know what your capable of and what being with you entitles. I want to face those things with you.”

  
He's about to lean back in when the door handle wiggles and there a loud banging against the metal door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE LEAVE ME COMMENTS BECAUSE I DESPERATELY LOOK FOR THEM. THEY MAKE ME SO MF HAPPY.
> 
> Who do you think is at the door?!?!


	7. Pink And Gold

Daryl has all of about had it with people interrupting him. He groans loudly and leans his head against Paul’s chest. The soft giggles running through him echo through the room. “Do you want me to get it?” He asks when the knocking doesn’t stop. “Nah, put yer shirt back on.” He tells the younger, pulling back and pulling him in with a hand cupping his head. Paul whines at the kiss but does as he’s told and gets up to pull his clothes back on.

When Daryl stands, he has to adjust himself in his pants. He walks over to the door and unlocks it. Of course it’s Merle, who else would be there just in time to ruin his life. “What are you doin’ inside at this time? Lost my damn key.” The older brother sneers, pushing past him to get inside when he spots Paul, still fixing his shirt. He’s blushing and looking around for a way out.

“Jeez, little brother, didn’t know you were actually going to fuck ‘em!” He laughs. Daryl doesn’t find it funny as he walks over to Paul. “Come on,” He holds out his hand and drags him away from the preying eyes of his brother.

Once they are outside again, Paul stops, Daryl still holding onto his hand. “Wait,” He says, dropping his hand and walking back to the door. “How much did you finish?” He asks Merle who only stares. “How much did you cook, because Negan came today, asking where his three pounds were and Daryl told him you only have two. So how much did you finish.”

Daryl wants to pull Paul back down the stairs, toss him in the truck and take him home. He’s too good at this, he’s finding his way too easily and he isn’t scared to stand up for what he wants. “Half a pound left to go,” He says, taking a long drink off the carton of orange juice. “Yer a little spitfire, aren’t you? Going to whip my little brother into shape.”

Daryl slides his hand across Paul’s hip. “I told you that you don’t have to worry about this.” Paul almost pulls away from his grip. “And I don’t see you taking care of it? I don’t see you asking him?” Merle is right, Paul is a spitfire. He’s going to be the death of him.

“I will, but right now, I’ve got more important things to attend to.” The Grimes crosses his arms ready to defend himself. “And what could be so much more important than—“ Daryl stops him. “Working on that car of yours. Makin’ you happy. Now get yer ass down the stairs, if we work hard ‘nough today, you can drive it tonight.”

Paul gives him a sort of soft smile and leans over, kissing the corner of his mouth carefully. Merle is defiantly still watching them and it makes Daryl’s skin heat up. “Fine. But afterwords you have to take care of this.”

Paul leads him down the stairs this time. Daryl gets to work on the old car, getting Paul a chair to sit in and another rootbeer. He watches Daryl work for half the day. They have skipped lunch in hopes of getting the car finished. He’s got a new power steering pump on, the work to the carburetor has it up and running by two thirty. Paul is asleep in his chair when Daryl starts it.

It roars to life and sends Paul flying out of his spot. He’s bouncing around with excitement for ten minutes before he gets the nerve to get into the car. “Take me to get something to eat.” Daryl smirks at him as he climbs into the passenger seat. They still need to do a lot of work if it’s going to run better than it is but he wants Paul to be able to drive it.

Daryl shows him how to put it into gear despite it being a automatic. “Have you ever driven a car before?” He asks him cautiously when Paul finally lets off the break. “My dad let me drive his patrol car a bunch of times, I have my permit.”

It makes Daryl feel better for only a moment, then they are rolling down the driveway and Paul looks more nervous than him. “You better not kill me kid, just got my hands on ya.” He says, gripping the door handle tightly. Paul giggles at him.

His driving isn’t terrible. Daryl doesn’t let his grip up but he isn’t scared for his life anymore. Paul has to lean close to the steering wheel, he looks way too small in the old muscle car. “I’ll drive on the way back, show you what this thing has.” He tells him, eyeing Paul. He’s far more open about it than he had been for the last few days because he knows Paul wants it nearly as much as he does.

“You better not wreck it then.” Paul scowls over at him at the same time he hits a trashcan. Daryl winces and looks back at the trash all over the street and then over at Paul who’s in a fit of giggles. He continues on till they pull into the old Dinner off Churchhill Street. “Wait here,” Daryl says as he hurries to get out. He walks around and pulls the door open for Paul, smiling down at him.

He can tell by the look on Paul’s face that he’s impressed with Daryl, that he is flattered by the treatment he is giving him. It’s a look he wants to see for the rest of his life.

They get themselves both a burger and they don’t share a milkshake, even though Daryl wants to. He’s never been on a date, but he’s telling himself that this is his first and that makes it even better. Paul just stares at him, small smile on his face and rosey cheeks. “You look cute as hell right now.” He whispers. The dinner is nearly empty but it makes the silence around them thinner. He doesn’t want anyone to overhear him hitting on a underaged kid.

“I can’t believe you think I’m cute.” He whispers back, running his hand through his hair nervously. “Of course I do, always have.” Daryl wasn’t a man of many words but Paul was worth writing a symphony. Paul moved around a little and then there’s a foot sliding up Daryl’s thigh. He bites his bottom lip to hide a gasp. “What are you doing?” He grumbles lovely and looks around. No one is bothering them in the booth at the end of the bar.

“Shh,” Paul whispers and slides his foot up Daryl’s thigh carefully. “Jesus, little one...were in public.” But Daryl spreads his legs little. There’s Paul’s foot, shoeless, pressed against his crotch and coaxing him till he’s hard in his jeans.

“Told you I wasn’t going to—“ Paul presses a little harder. “Didn’t say you had to do that.”

Daryl pushes his almost empty plate away before reaching down and adjusting himself. “Let’s get you outta here.” He groans and stands. He pulls money out of his pocket and leaves forty on the table even though the bill is only twenty five. Paul stands and walks past him slowly, so Daryl takes the moment Paul’s back is facing away from everyone to slap him on the ass playfully.

He yelps and hurries past him out the door. Paul climbs into passenger side and waits for Daryl. “Easy kid, I don’t have as much energy as you.” He sighs and starts up the old car. He speeds down the streets and starts taking the old road out to the Grimes farm.

Paul nearly whines in his ear as he moves over on the bench seat. “Don’t worry, I ain’t’ taking you home yet.” He tells him as he takes a road before the one leading to the farm. It’s winds up the side of a hill and Daryl parks the car at the top of it. It’s about to be sundown, the old road leads up to a mine that isn’t used anymore. When he stops the car, he kills the motor but lets the radio play quietly.

Paul almost looks almost awkward beside him so Daryl holds out his hand. “C’mere.” He opens the door and pulls Paul out with him. When Paul’s stumbles out of the car Daryl lifts him up easily and walks him over to the hood where he sets him down. Paul slides his thighs up his legs and leans back a little, pressing them together.

“Anyone ever touched you?” Daryl’s voice is still low, despite the fact that no one is listening. He can see the way it makes Paul shiver. “N-No, just me. Want you to be the first.” He leans up and kisses him. Daryl sucks his bottom lip in and nibbles on it just to listening to the younger moan. “I want to eat you out,” Daryl growls and yanks his legs forward till he’s nearly hanging off the car.

Paul leans back on it and eyes him, his lids half closed and his mouth open. “Please, please, Daryl.”

Daryl pulls at his belt buckle and undoes his pants but Paul shimmies out of them after yanking his shirt over his head. If he ever wanted to take Paul anywhere, bend him over and take what he wants, it’s right here on the hood of the Cougar.

“Christ, you are so pretty, baby.” He drinks him up easily, Paul is so well proportioned. Just because Paul is short, small, it doesn’t make him thin. He’s covered in lean muscles and his dick is far thicker than Daryl had anticipated. He’s olive-colored, and so damn decadent. Paul pulls away from him and rolls over, arching his back till his ass is in the air. Daryl runs his hand across his soft cheek and groans.

He leans down and slops hot tongue across his entrance, from his balls to the bottom of his back. Paul whines more than he moans, he lets out quiet whimpers and digs his nails into the paint on the hood as he presses back into Daryl’s greedy mouth. He slips his tongue into him, drives him nearly over the edge. He spits into his hand and works his cock as he mouths at him. Paul falls apart under him, comes all over the primer paint with a loud cry and a jerk of his hips.

“Daryl,” he gasps as he slumps against the hood in a pile of sweat and cum. Daryl is rock hard in his jeans but he ignores it in favor of pulling Paul against his chest. “C’mere, baby.” He lifts him off the cool metal and carries him over to the still open door where the stereo is still playing quietly. He sets him inside and climbs in after him.

Paul comes down for about a half an hour while Daryl watches the sunset. Paul finds an old blanket in the back and wraps it around himself while he lays against the older man.

It’s quiet between them for a long time, the sky turning shades of pink and gold. “I don’t want to leave this place.” Paul finally sighs sadly. He knows he has to go home in a few minutes, his parents will be wondering where he is. Daryl has calmed down now, he’s willed away his want and he looks down at Paul’s big blue eyes and kisses him.

“I gotta take you home, sweetheart. Need to get your beauty sleep.”

Despite Paul’s protests, Daryl does get him dressed and takes him home before the sun is all the way down. He plans to take the car back to the shop because it needs more work but he has some work to do of his own for the night.

When they pull up out front, it’s dark out, so Daryl leans over silently and presses a few long, sweet kisses to his lips. “Can’t hardly leave, puppy.” He tells him, a pang of sadness in his voice. Paul smiles at him and strokes his thumb across his face tenderly. “You’ll see me tomorrow. For now, just...go home, climb into bed and wrap a hand around yourself, imagine me sucking you off.”

Of course, Paul would leave him hanging like this, the little shit. He sinks another more meaningful kiss to his mouth before pulling back when the screen door creaks and out steps an old man Daryl has never seen before.

Daryl gets out to walks Paul to the door but he feels shaky with the man's eyes on him. Paul gives him a gentle wave, heads inside leaving just the two of them on the porch. He's about to turn when he clears his throat carefully.

”Son, Id like to have a talk with you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH SHIT


	8. Marco Polo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I though I should probably specify this because it was brough to my attention how Daryl calls him “little one” and he is underaged. Keep in mind Paul is 17, but Daryl ONLY calls him “little one” because Paul is small. He’s 5’5 and 123lbs. His growth is somewhat stunted from being sick when he was younger while in my world, Daryl is 5’10 and probably about 185lbs

Daryl watches Paul take the stairs and disappear into his room without notice. He walks across the porch awkwardly and takes a seat beside the older man who has a bottle of whiskey in his hand and two glasses of ice. “Paul has a lot of nice things to say about you. He’s a smart young man, always been witty.” The mans voice is calming and steady. He pours them both a drink and Daryl sips his fully.

He assumes he must be his grandfather by the way he talks about Paul. “Now, Rick didn’t set me up to this. They went out to dinner and haven’t been back for hours. I’d like to ask you myself, for myself, what your intentions are with Paul. I’m not a foolish old man, but I need to know that my grandson isn’t going to get himself hurt.”

Daryl swallows thickly. He doesn’t want to get himself into trouble, or Paul. He’s got eleven years on Paul, who is still underaged. “I ain’t going to do anything to get him hurt.” He tries to reassure him without saying anything too incriminating. “You know what I mean, son. He’s old enough to make his own decisions, still too young to know what it’s like to get his heart broken.”

“Ain’t going to break his heart. Wouldn’t let anyone hurt him.” Theres a heartened look in Daryl’s eyes. Hershel finds it and smiles at him. “Didn’t think you would. You were always the softer boy. Still remember the day you and that brother of yours brought a cat out to the farm that got attacked by a dog. You cried till I promised that it would be okay.”

Daryl remembers the day, not vividly, but he remembers the way Merle told him to just leave it, it would die anyways. He didn’t expect that and he made his brother take him out to the Greene Farm to the old vet.

Daryl stands from his chair and sticks out his hand. Hershel stands too and shakes it gently. “I’ll always be good to him. Hope some day, maybe...Rick could see that too.”

* * *

 

It starts to become a regular thing. Paul would wake up in the morning and shower, make it halfway through breakfast in a hurry when Daryl would pull up in the old truck. They tell his parents the car is still not running, so Paul can keep skipping out on staying home all day in favor of going on fishing trips with Daryl for the day, so they can get away from everything and everyone.

Daryl finishes the third pound and doesn’t tell Paul about meeting with Negan to drop it off. He doesn’t let Paul get involved with it more than he already inserts himself.

Paul pouts for half of the day before Daryl strips down to his boxers and jumps into the creek. After some coaxing and leaning against the dock, he manages to get Paul to climb into the cool water with him. They forget about fishing and swim around for a couple hours, playing “ _Marco Polo_ ” and falling against each other every chance they get. When they get hungry and dry off on the shoreline, they talk about things normal people would.

Paul tells him about starting senior year in a couple months, Daryl talks about never graduating. He’s embarrassed but Paul kisses his big shoulder and smiles at him.

They go back and forth for days, all week long while everyone else is too busy to worry about where they are. Daryl packs them a lunch, they never catch any fish, but they both start to get a dark tan by the fourth day. It’s Saturday again, a week since this has started, a week since Daryl has been lingering around him. It’s noon and Daryl is laying in the sand beside the shore.

Paul has his head on his chest, running his fingers through sand on Daryl’s belly. “What about a Porsche?” He asks quietly and his head bobs around as Daryl laughs. “I’m telling ya, a corvette out does everythin’, nothin’ can out run a LS.” Daryl is playing with Paul’s hair and he looks down at him with a sleepy smile.

“I wish I was older, so we could be together and not have to worry about what people thought of us.” Paul sighs and closes his eyes, the sun making them sting. The shade tree above them helps. Daryl rolls his eyes at him. “No you don’t...s’hard being an adult, no one to fall back on or depend on for help. It’s hard being that for yourself.” The older man tells him.

“Is that what it was like for you?” Paul starts to sit up a little and Daryl follows, leaning back on his palms. “Well, yeah...ain’t ever had anyone to fall back on. Jus’ me and Merle and the shop.” He sighs. He hasn’t been at the shop in days, but Merel has been working for him. He found that if he didn’t really give him the choice, Merle wouldn’t be able to argue.

“You’ve got me.” Paul slings a leg over his lap and leans against him. “You’ll always have me.” Theres a sweet twinkle in Paul’s eyes. Daryl leans over and kisses his forehead. “I’ll always take care of you, you know that right?” It’s all serious right now. Daryl has this determined look on his face. He reaches up and presses his palm against Paul’s cheek, he’s got a mustache and beard starting to grow in, more now than Daryl has ever had on his face and it almost makes him jealous.

“Your dad told me, bout what happened when you were little.” Paul looks down at his hands then back up shyly. “I didn’t want you to think I’m weak because of it. I’m not fragile, just...didn’t grow all the way, I guess. Everyone’s always picked on me in school so I took self defense classes and aikido—“ Daryl pulls back quickly with a surprised look.

“You know _Aikido_? Damn Paul, you must be bad ass huh?” It explains where all the muscles are from, Paul didn’t get those from riding his bike.

“No, I’m decent but nothing too extreme. Just thought if I’m going to be this small forever, I should probably be able to take care of myself.” Daryl reaches over in the cooler they brought with them and grabs a can of sweet tea. “I’m sure you’ll get a bit bigger, don’t think your done growing but—I mean, I’m alright with it. Like how _little_ you are, think it’s sexy as hell.” He cracks open the can and takes a long drink.

He likes the way Paul looks up at him when they are face to face,  
Likes the way Paul looks in his shirts. He doesnt look young, just...petite. “You know what I think is sexy as hell?” Paul reaches out and runs his fingers along his rose tattoo. “Your tattoos, and that motorcycle. Thought you looked like a bad ass when you dropped me off that day.”

They stare at each other for a little while, learning each others faces when Paul clears his throat. “I have to go home soon, it’s Maggie’s birthday, that’s why my grandpa is in town.” Daryl wishes they didn’t have to go. He could spend another week here next to the creek tucked deep in the woods.

“Come with me. I bet you’d love it, we always have a big cookout, dad sets up yard games like horse shoes and bean bags. You could be my partner.” Daryl has a moment of want followed by mounds of dread. He would be so out of place, surrounded by Grimes and Greene’s alike. “I don’t know, baby...I might come a little later, maybe when it’s died down.” He shrugs his shoulders and leans over to kiss his lips. “C’mon, get dressed and I’ll drive you back to the farm.”

Paul doesn’t try to push him and Daryl appreciates it more than ever. When he gets him home, Paul asks him to stop by the mail boxes so he can give him a proper kiss goodbye which turns into Paul spread across his lap sucking bruises into his collar bone and grinding their hips together till Paul hits the steering wheel and scares them apart. They laugh a little, wipe their mouths and fix their hair as they head the rest of the way down the driveway. “Come see me tonight?” Paul whines as he opens the old yellow door.

“I don’t know—“ he starts to say. “I’ll tell my daddy I’m spending the night with Noah?” It’s the first time Paul has ever wanted to spend the night. It’s all too tempting to be huddled up in bed all night, listening to the way be breaths when he’s asleep. “Yeah, okay...I’ll come by around nine, alright?” Daryl wants to lean over and give him one last bruising kiss for good measure but instead, he backs down the driveway before other cars start to pile in.

On the way back out to town, rounding a bend, he almost runs straight into Shane Walsh’s patrol car and it makes his stomach flip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this was REALLY short but what do you guys think?


	9. Not A Dixon

The party goes by ( _mostly_ ) without a problem. Rick and Shane get drunk and fight about points in a game of horse shoes. Lori stresses out about making sure everyone has drinks and food but Maggie spends most of the afternoon telling her mother how good of a time she’s having. They have a spontaneous water balloon fight and right in the middle of a throw, Paul wishes Daryl was there, running around and laughing with him. He could imagine him drenched from head to toe, blushing and grinning at an equally soaked Paul.

He ends up the only one drenched from the water balloons. He changes and decides to stay inside for the rest of the party since he’s still shivering and unable to get warm.

Maggie finds him on the couch, huddled up in a blanket with a bowl of chips while he watches Cops. “What, are we too good for you now?” She jokes. It’s nearly dark, but the party has a long time before stopping. It’s eight o’clock, he’s only got another hour before Daryl comes to get him. “No—just cold is all.” He tells her as he flips through the channels.

“I’m just playing with you...I feel like I haven’t seen you all day. Or, all week for that matter.” She’s got a cup in her hand that smells like alcohol. “Mom and dad are pretty wasted, grandpa gave me some whiskey.” She tells him and takes a sip.

“I’ve been working on the car, with Daryl.” He tells her hoping it will ease her mind. “No, you haven’t, because I’ve been by the shop and the only thing Merle has to say is, “Daryl told me to say I ain’t seen him, so I ain’t seen him”.”

Paul reminds himself to kick Merle next time he sees him. “So it sort of makes me wonder what else you’ve been doing, _with Daryl_.” She does the air quotes with her hands and frowns at him. “Apparently you’ve already got some vivid guesses, so take one, shove it up your ass and run with it.” He tells her and tosses the blanket off himself as he stands.

Their conversation has turned hostile to say the very least. “You can’t be out, running around with some...some redneck dirtball! Daddy would have his head if he knew—“

“Knew what?” There's a stern yet wobbly man at the doorway of the kitchen. His mother stands behind Rick, arms crossed. Of course, she’ll sell him out, he did the same thing to her when Rick found out about her and the pizza delivery boy. But then again, he wasn’t thirty, and Maggie was eighteen at the time.

“Bout him, comin’ home with hickeys when he’s supposed to be working on a stupid car with that _Dixon_!” Paul doesn’t like the way she spits out Daryl name like is tainted and distasteful. He would have her know, Daryl taste pretty _damn_ good.

It defiantly isn’t a lie, Paul had to cover one the second day, when Daryl pressed him up against a tree and rocked against him till they both spilled into their pants. Daryl had apologized the rest of the day while Paul wore the mark almost proudly.

“You _bitch_!” He curses at her, turning with fiery eyes. “Admit it, your screwing a Dixon!”

It reminds him of all the times they would argue as kids. Even sick, Paul would pick fights with his sister just to fill the voids. Under it all, they loved each other—

He lunged forward and grabbed a lock of her hair and yanked her to the ground. Rick and Lori were on them before Maggie got a swing in. “Damn it, let each other go!”

Paul does as he’s told but yanks his arm away from his mother. “I can’t believe you.” He spits at his sister who makes the same face.

“I ain’t lyin’, Paul ain’t been working on no car, he’s been running off with Daryl for hours.” Maggie accuses. There are people looking at them, mostly family but they start to thin out, most knowing when it’s time to go home.

“Paul?” Rick looks at him with a hurt glare. How could his son betray him like that? “Daddy, it ain’t like it seems, Daryl is—“ Lori stops him mid-sentence. “He’s a grown man, Paul, Christ! Do you have any idea what this means?” Rick has gone from hurt to angry, to livid.

“Means I’m going to kill that piece of shit the second I get my hands on him—“ Shane is stepping through the doorway. “I can help ya in the morning, boss.”

The two decide on it easily. They're going to bring Daryl in in the morning, his father is going to stick everything he can on his lover. That is, if they don’t get him tonight, when he comes to pick Paul up in less than an hour.

Paul kicks his feet in protest. “Hes never even touched me! He’s a good man and your going to throw him in jail jus’ because Maggie said so!” He yells at them. Rick has this determined look in his eyes. “Should have known what he was up to the second I saw him.” 

“I _hate_ you—I hate you guys!” He yanks away from everyone and rushes through the front door. He heads straight for the barn near the edge of the property where he’d planned to meet Daryl, maybe he can catch him before they do, tell him he needs to get as far away as he can. Maybe Paul can go with him.

He paces the barn as he listens to the noise of cars leaving. They let Paul go for now, it’s a long ways back to town and they don’t expect him to start walking. He watches them on the porch, Shane and his dad swigging off a bottle is scotch. His grandpa is in the rocking chair ignoring the two men. Paul is lucky enough to have someone like Hershel to watch his back.

He lets himself collapse in the hay, hoping, praying maybe Daryl will come sliding through the big doors and swoop him up, take him out of there. It isn’t fair, who are they to tell him who he can and can’t love?

It feels like an eternity that Paul sits in the barn. It has to be past nine, the lights in the house are out and the farm is quiet. Maybe Daryl stood him up, which is almost a pleasant thought in the sense that they can’t catch him trespassing, on top of everything else.

The barn creaks quietly, the first sound he’s heard all night long besides a raccoon in the rafters.

“Daryl?” He asks the darkness surrounding him. There’s no response other than heavy footsteps coming towards him.

“Not a Dixon, but we can pretend.” It’s Shane, wearing his work pants, a gun on his hip and a teeshirt tucked in tightly.

Paul can feel his palms start to sweat profusely. “What, uh...what are you doing here?” He says as he starts to back away from the much bigger, much taller man.

“Was leavin, told your daddy I’d send you his way if I found ya. I found ya, didn’t i?” Paul finds a opening and tried to take it.

“Right! Your right, I should probably get inside.” He tries to walk around Shane who places a big hand on his pounding chest. “Hey, not so fast now.” His voice is dripping with intent and it makes Paul’s legs feel weak. He feels like he’s going to have a panic attack.

“Now, I’ve got to say, I’m a bit offended you went for that Dixon first. While I’m not usually one for sloppy seconds, Daryl isn’t a big guy, I’m sure he hasn’t damaged the goods too much.” There it is, the thing that he feared would happen eventually. Shane had always been a scary man, which got worse the older Paul got.

“Please dont—Daryl, he ain’t done that.” He tries to plea with him. He just grins. “Good, you can tell everyone it was Daryl, then.” The hand around his throat catches him off guard, but he does his best to get away from it. All the self defense classes in the world could never prepare him for this. He tries a couple moves, trying to get away, but Shane blocks them all. He tightens his grip and slugs him in the side sharply. Paul tries to buckle over in paint but Shane holds him up.

“Come on now, don’t fight it, your just going to get yourself hurt.” He pulls a knife from his belt and Paul wishes he’d kept his grandfathers on him.

He presses it to his cheek and slides it across, making Paul since at the sharp pain. “P—Please, please stop.” He sobs outwards and tries to sink away from Shane.

“Like it when you beg, _boy_.”

Suddenly, the darkness feels like it’s flooding in on him when Shane connects his fist with Paul’s delicate face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, I live for cliffhangers. Where is a Dixon when you need one, am I right?! 
> 
> Drop your thoughts below, you guys know I love to see them.


	10. It Sounds Like Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is pretty brutal so just be prepared.

Daryl wants to leave him be for one night. He works at the shop with Merle and sulks for half of the day until they finally close down and Merle huffs at him.

“Ain’t ever seen you like this, little brother.” He sighed at him. It almost sounded understanding, empathetic if anything. Daryl shakes his head at him and washes the oils from his rough hands. “If I knew that boy would have you all twisted up like this, I would have left you to it for a little longer.” He pushes Daryl to the side so he can wash his own hands.

“He ain’t got me twisted up. Just—I ain’t ever had anyone _want_ me before, just for bein’ me.” Daryl wants to be with Paul right now more than anything, but the kid has a life outside of the two of them. Paul is probably having a great time and as much as he’d like to have Paul tucked in his bed looking all cozy and content, he can’t keep him all to himself.

“Look at you, my quiet little brother fallin’ in love and shit.” He jokes and walks off to go upstairs.

Daryl hangs around the shop for a couple of hours cleaning up things they haven’t touched in ages. He hadn’t noticed how much he had going on in his life that he let just fall apart until he had something worth holding it all together for.

By the time he go done cleaning, he realized it was past nine. A part of him wanted to let Paul stay but another part didn’t want to leave him waiting and wondering.

He loads himself into the old truck and heads towards the Grimes farm. He daydreams about Paul the whole way, his soft skin, the way he settles against Daryl so easily. He thinks about the way his laugh sounds and how much bigger Daryl’s hands are when he holds Paul’s.

He shuts off his lights when he gets closer to the farm, pulls up alongside the fence line and hops out quietly. He knows Paul would still be waiting for him, of course, he would. Paul was stubborn as hell and he didn’t give up on anything.

He hops over the fence and tracks through the tall grass when he hears it. It’s Paul, faint cries and whimpers, it sounds helpless.

Daryl ends up in a sprint towards the barn but it’s not the running that takes his breath away. It’s Paul’s face presses into the hay with his hands cuffed behind his back and that piece of shit officer behind him, his pants around his ankles. Paul’s shirt is ripped open and Shane is taking a knife to his pants to cut them apart at the seams. There’s blood everywhere and Shane is too far gone to even notice the way Daryl is making his way across the room.

He rips Shane off and pulls the knife from his hand in the same go. “Son of a _bitch_!” He growls, slamming his fist into the officers face. He doesn’t let up, either, not until Shane is unconscious in his hands, limp and bloody. He turns them, because as much as he wants to kill him, skin him and wear him like a coat, Paul is much more important. He pulls the gun from his belt that is still around knees before turning to Paul.

Paul is shaking and sobbing, unable to move from the way his hands are cuffed. He looks so weak, covered in his own blood. He has a busted lip and two black eyes and a cut across his face along with dark bruising on his neck.

“Baby, hey, _hey_ look at me.” He tries but Paul is in shock, throws himself around when Daryl touches him. He peeks one eye open and then they flutter closed and he passes out.

Daryl doesn’t waste a second, he pulls Paul up and slings him over his shoulder, it has to be the most comfortable way to carry him with his hands bound. He moves as fast as he can towards the house, he’s shouting the whole time, looking for someone to help him, anyone. The first one out the front door is a young girl, the one he knows as Paul’s sister.

“What did you do!” She cries and runs towards them. Rick and Hershel are out the door right after her. Rick is pulling the gun from his hip so Daryl throws the one in his spare hand to the ground.

“You son of a bitch!” Rick is holding the gun to him so he brings Paul to the ground, panting and covered in his and Shane’s blood alike. “Found ‘em in the barn, officer Walsh had him cuffed up and—.” Daryl can’t finish. He swallows and watches the way Paul tries to wake himself.

“Like your any better!” Maggie accuses him. He glares up at her, if this were any other time, he would probably roll over and admit defeat. “ _I ain’t ever touched him_!” He growls at her as Hershel pushes past the two Grimes.

“Save it for another time.” The old man says and leans down, trying to wake Paul up. “Rick, Maggie, need your help gettin’ him inside.” Hershel orders them. Maggie does what she’s told but Rick—Rick just stands there, staring at the barn, staring at Daryl.

“ _Rick_ , your son needs you,” Hershel tells him as the two lift Paul in their arms and starts to bring his lifeless body inside. Then, it’s just Daryl and the Sheriff.

Ricks' eyes are glassy and confused, he looks like he wants to do something, but he glances over at Daryl as the liquid beads down his cheek. He flips his gun around in his hand and pushes the handle towards Daryl. It’s quiet between them, other than the sound of his heart pounding in his chest uncontrollably. Daryl takes the outstretched gun carefully and lets it fall to his side.

“Do what you have to, but leave him alive until I get my hands on him.” Rick gives him this knowing look, a look of understanding and trust. Daryl shakes the gun in his hand a little and looks down at it before glancing back the barn.

“ _Gladly_.” He growls. The two part way at the same time, Rick headed into the house to help stabilize Paul while Daryl heads towards the barn. Shane is starting to come to so Daryl walked over and kicks him in the side. He pops his eyes open and Daryl grabs him by his shirt. “Your fucking crazy, ain’t you, dumbass? Touchin’ the Sheriff's boy? You ain’t a man at all.” He slams his head against the wood on the side of the barn. Shane hisses and clutches his already throbbing head.

“Like you haven’t done it.” He manages between groans, leaning back against the wall, breathless and all out of fight. “Ain’t done anything to Paul he ain’t begged me to do.” He doesn’t hit him again, Shane is already pretty fucked up, so Daryl stands on top of his leg, pressing down.

“Pisses you off, don’t it? That why you did it? Can’t stand the thought of him wantin’ anyone else?” Shane hisses at him and tries to pull his leg away but Daryl stomps on it, breaking the bone and making him nearly scream.

Shane rolls away from him into the hay, so Daryl turns his back to him and walks to the open door where he lights a cigarette. He can hear if the older man tries to move but he just lays in the hay, tossing in pain.

He can see ricks figure coming across the pasture. He’s stripped down to only a white tee and his hair is wet looking, sweaty. “Where is he.” The man growls at him as he steps past.

“‘S got a broken leg,” he turns to him and takes a long drag. Rick walks over to him and kicks him, hard, till Shane is doubling over in pain. So Daryl, Daryl just leans back against the barn door and watches intently while he smokes. He watches the way Rick drags him up to his knees and punches him repeatedly. Shane goes slack against him until he’s dripping in blood and a few broken teeth.

Daryl takes the second to step forward. Rick doesn’t look like he’s going to stop any time soon so Daryl grabs him by his arm and makes him. “ _Rick_ ,” he voice is soft, maybe a little too soft but it stops the man.

“Ain’t worth it, ain’t worth you killin’ someone. You don’t need that in your conscience.” Rick blinks at him but he doesn’t disagree with Daryl. Daryl still has the Python tucked into his pants. He pulls the gun out and pulls the hammer back.

It’s over in an instant, Daryl doesn’t think twice. He doesn’t blink when he pulls the trigger and he doesn’t shutter when the deed is done.

Shane slumps over in a puddle and Daryl let’s his hand drop. He turns to look at Rick, who has a blank expression across his face. He looks defeated and weak. “He...He tried to—“ Rick is shaky as he lets his head drop with a soft hiccup. “ _My son_ ,” he looks over at Daryl.

Daryl has never had to face a situation like this, no one has ever cried to him before. “We got him, brother,” he hands the gun over. “Paul, he’s tough, he’s going to be okay.” Tried to tell him but the man's head snaps up. “ _No_ ,” he points at him.

“You're going to make sure he’s safe. I can’t always be there to make sure he’s safe, you can. Go inside, he uh—he was askin’ for you. I need to figure out what to do with him.” He points at Shane’s dead body. He swallows and steps forward, taking the gun before walking over to the body.

Daryl stops to watch him for a moment, the way he tugs the body upwards to work out what he should do. He sees it then, where Paul got everything from. The stubbornness, the brain, and the heart.

He heads towards the house quickly. Maggie is out pacing the porch with her mother who has to hold onto her when Maggie tries to lunge at him. “You son of a bitch, what did you do to him?” She sobs, hanging onto her mother’s arm.

Daryl ignores her, Paul is in there and he needs him more than ever. He makes his way up the stairs to the room with the only open door. Paul is laying on the bed and shaking gently. Hershel is holding a bloody rag to his shoulder blade. “What happened?” He steps forward. Paul had a gash wound just between his shoulder and spine and it looks deep.

“It’s just a flesh wound, he’s going to be okay. Need to stop the bleeding so I can stitch him up. Hold onto him, I need to get more rags.” The man stands. Paul cries out when the pressure stops and Daryl is quick to be at his side. “Hey, puppy, you're okay.” He says and presses the rag to his wound. “Paul, look at me.” He tries, pushing his hair back.

He helps Hershel soak up the blood and hold the wound until it stops. It takes around forty-five minutes, long enough for Rick to call another officer to come out with the coroner to take their statements and collect the body. It takes until sun up for everything to be squared away, Paul is finally asleep and Daryl is about to be, propped up against the post on the front porch, the blood on him far past dried.

“Hey,” it’s Rick, shuffling across the porch in his socks. He sinks down onto the cool wood and leans his head against the opposite post. Daryl sighs, maybe it’s the lack of sleep or the adrenaline but he swallows and says;

“Think I’m in love with your son.” He huffs out and closes his eyes. To his surprise, Rick doesn’t challenge him. He just laughs softly and reaches over, pushing his shoulder. “Always thought Paul would be plain. If only I could have been so lucky.”

Daryl chuckles. “That kid is a long ways from plain.” He smiles fondly and looks over at rick. “I’ve still gotta have rules. He’s got to have a curfew and he’s got to finish school.” Rick doesn’t exactly demand but he asks.

“Wouldn’t expect anything else.” Daryl retorts and stands to leave. “Stay the mornin’, Paul will be asking where you are if he wakes up for the first time and your gone.” Rick gestures to the stairs that lead to Paul’s room and Daryl takes them gladly.

He sinks into the bed beside Paul and drapes a hand across him carefully. He falls asleep like that, in Paul’s bed, covered in blood with the door wide open and the house filled with the sounds of people rustling around the kitchen.

It sounds like home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone else live for a little Rickyl, because I know I do. Only going to be a couple more chapters, thank you everyone for staying with me.


	11. He Didn’t Regret It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is only going to last a couple more chapters as I planned but you can catch me on another installment in this series involving some downright morally wrong Rickyl. Stay tuned

Paul wakes up slowly. There probably isn’t any better way to be waking up, he’s too sore to even attempt to climb away from the strong arm caging him in. He glances down in a haze to see dark, beautiful ink. It’s roses, in a traditional style of tattooing, shaded in and fading a little.

Paul reaches down and slides his fingers across the rose tattoo and smiles. The man behind him grumbles something incoherent and tucks Paul closer. After a second, he continues to snore softly. If Paul was trying to sleep, he could see Daryl’s snoring to be something that kept him up, but right now he wouldn’t want to hear anything else.

The bedroom door creeks and in steps Lori, a rag in her hand. “Oh,” she squeaks, jumping a little at the way Paul’s eyes pour into her. “Mom, uh.” He goes to move but winces at the way his stitches catch. “Shh, it’s okay. I just came to make sure you weren’t running a fever.” She tells him quietly, like she’s trying to be courteous of the grown man pressed to his back.

“Daryl has been up all night, bless his heart.” She smiles down at them and, woah, wait a second. “What?” He peers back at the man who is sound asleep, his mouth partially open and a little drool dribbling down his chin.

“He saved you. Risked his life for yours, think he’s earned a little gratitude.” She tells him and presses the towel to his forehead. If Daryl wasn’t holding onto him for dear life, the cool cloth would be the best feeling at the moment.

Daryl tightens his grip again and stirs. It isn’t a second layer that he yanks the arm back and jumps nearly from the bed. “S—Sorry.” He wipes his face in a sleep induced haze. Paul wants to giggle at him for the lost look he wears on his face, waking up in an unfamiliar place.

Lori gives him a sad smile and stands. “Your sister is pretty upset. When you feel up to it you should probably talk to her.” She tells the youngest Grimes and heads towards the door. “You two can go back to sleep.”

Paul watches the still weary woman go, closing the door behind her with a click. For once in his damn life, he gets some kind of privacy and it only took nearly getting killed—“ _oh my god_.” He lets his face fall into the pillow with a defeated little squeak.

But Daryl, being the man that he is, doesn’t let Paul descend into the dark abyss that is Shane Walsh’s rough hands caging him in. “Hey, I’m right here,” Daryl says, kissing along his shoulder, marred by a knife the night before. “He ain’t gonna hurt you, darlin’, ain’t going to hurt anyone ever again.” He slid a hand under Paul’s neck and pulled him by his chest so he was tucked against him. He kisses the junction between his neck and traps, trying his best to sooth his lover but Paul shook uncontrollably.

“D-Did my dad get him?” He whispered, rolling to look back at Daryl. “Yeah baby, he got him.” He kissed him on his mouth and held him there. Paul thought he might turn to dust in Daryl’s hands. “Did he kill him?” Paul can feel Daryl shutter against him and by the flicker of his eyes to the door, he could feel the uncontrollable sense of urgency. Daryl was looking for a way out.

“ _Daryl_ ,” He says again, rolling over and digging his fingers into the soft locks of his hair. “Please—I gotta know.” He whispered and kisses him softly. It feels foreign almost, a gentle touch.

“Tell me what he did and...and I’ll tell you what we did.” Daryl challenges him.

Telling Daryl might settle something inside of him, he feels like he needs Daryl to know, so it isn’t just him inside of these walls, scared and alone. Daryl needs it to, for whatever reason, maybe to justify the things they did to Shane Walsh late at night in that barn.

“Choked me. Held me down with all his weight and pushed his—his tongue down my throat.” Paul looks away, he can’t meet Daryl’s eyes. “I bit him, he started to bleed and that’s when he cuffed me up. I could feel him, rubbing up against me and,” his voice waivers something like a soft whimper so Daryl hauls him in close and tucks him under his chin.

“I killed him.” Daryl breaths. It takes a weight from Paul’s shoulders, an overbearing fear that haunts him. It subsides at the idea of Shane’s end being at the hands of Daryl. “Your daddy, he uh...he was beatin’ him, really going for it. I couldn’t let him have that memory. Pulled his gun out of my pants and I looked in his eyes when I pulled the trigger.” Daryl is running his hand down Paul’s spine, leaving soft prickles in his wake. Paul closes his eyes tight and tries to picture it.

“He didn’t look like he regretted it.”

Paul can see it, the look in the man's eyes, the dark, bottomless pool of anger and deception. “I’m sorry.” He says against Daryl’s tanned skin. “Ain’t nothing to be sorry for. I’d do it again right now. I’d do anything for you.” He pulls Paul back to glance down at him.

Daryl kisses him like he’s got nothing else to do for the rest of his life. He can live and breath, eat and sleep with Paul pressed tightly to his lips. Paul arches and caves to his iron hold. It’s gentle like it’s never been before because, before last night, they thought they had forever.

Paul sighs when Daryl slips his tongue into his mouth, anything to get the taste of blood and Shane out of his throat. Daryl ignores the copper taste because the older man leans him backwards to pin him under his arms. Paul doesn’t push him away, he doesn’t get frightened, because Daryl gives him what he needs with good intent. He burns down the panic when he bites into Paul’s bottom lip.

There it is. Paul whines and lets his head tip backwards so Daryl takes the opportunity to kiss at the bruises around his throat. “Should have been me giving you those.” He tells him. “Should have been bruises from me sucking on your neck.”

At that, the bedroom door breaks open, again, Daryl nearly throws himself out of bed.

Paul holds his breath as he dad enters the room and he’s about ready for this to be the last time he sees Daryl. “Need you two to come give a statement.” He leans against the door jam and runs a hand through his wet hair. “And your getting blood all over your sheets.” Paul falls onto his back when his dad closes the door and hisses at the way his stitches tug.

“ _Easy_ , little one.” Daryl climbed across the bed for what feels like the millionth time that morning. Paul spreads out feeling absolutely defeated by what he thought he knew. “My dad knows your in here and he’s...okay with it now? What, do you just shoot his deputy in the face and he’s your best friend?” Paul rolls over groggily and settles with his head on Daryl’s chest.

“Think he respects me now because I saved you.” Daryl leaned down and kissed the top of Paul’s head and with a sight sigh he says, “We should get up.” But Paul just grumbles against his skin. “I’m so cozy.” Paul tries to place a kiss to his chest but he notices the way he’s covered in blood.

“Sorry,” He reaches around Paul and starts to tug at the buttons. “Do you have a shirt I can use?” Paul watches the older man pull off his shirt and toss it across the room but he finds that the less clothes he has on, the hotter Daryl’s skin is, the more they stick together. Daryl shouldn’t be looking at Paul like this, they almost lost each other last night, but that feels like the driving force behind the burning in his gut. The same force that drags the older man closer to Paul’s center.

“I think we could squeeze in fifteen more minutes.” Daryl whispered against his lips, there noses brushing together softly. “Twenty, maybe.” Paul hums and presses closer still.

They kiss till their lips are numb and swollen. Paul feels like his chest is hallowed and heavy and needing to be filled with Daryl’s heart. They are breathless despite the fact that only mere moments have passed. Paul gets his hand woven into Daryl hair again and he yanks him in, dragging him between the spread of his legs, letting Daryl coat him in a sturdy heat.

* * *

 

They are no longer timidly leaning over one another, or laying face to face, this was different, somehow, based on the way that Paul clawed at his biceps and sighed into his mouth when he rolled his hips downwards, chasing the soft friction, the achingly slow torment.

It wasn’t until he pulled back that he realized just how gone he truly was. Paul’s lips were puffy with a angry red and spit slicked.

“We should probably stop,” he pants as he lets his eyes drag across the outline of Paul’s hips, the way his happy trail bleeds up his stomach. He’s going to have more chest hair than Daryl soon.   
  
“You don’t look like your stoping anytime soon.” Paul accuses him like he knows what’s going on in Daryl’s mind. Well, he probably does, he was too damn good at reading him. Daryl sinks down at the words and presses his mouth to Paul’s collar bone but he manages to drag himself away after to sit up on the bed despite Paul’s disapproving pout.

He finds a shirt that is probably too big for Paul and slides it over his head before searching for something for the younger to wear. The two manage to make it down stairs in time for lunch and Daryl feels out of place with the house bustling around him but they don’t have rude remarks and they don’t comment on the blood stains on his hands.

He sacrificed it all for Paul and came out on top, for once in his life.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How I managed to write a whole chapter about laying in bed, I have no idea. Promise there will be more content in the next few and finally, FINALLY someone might get laid.


	12. Enough

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before you guys ask, YES I’m stopping it here because I feel like the more I think about what comes next the more I lose interest in continuing this part.

It’s takes three weeks for Paul to come back around. He has nightmares and as much as Daryl would like to, he can’t keep waking up in Paul’s bed only to stumble down the stairs half asleep only to have Ricks and Loris concerned eyes boar into him.

So, he drags himself home before nine most nights since Rick and Lori have a hard time letting Paul out of their sighs. It’s a Sunday night and they all have work in the morning, Maggie is going to sign up for her fall classes in Atlanta with Hershel since he has to take the trip home.

“He can come stay with me for the night.” Daryl tries knowing he’ll be shot down. They might have opened up to letting Daryl stay, but they can keep an eye on the two of them there. “Are you high?” Rick gapes at him until Lori slaps his arm. “I don’t think it’s a bad idea, it’s not like he hasn’t been staying here every night this week. Can’t keep him cooped up in this house and even if it’s only to Daryl’s, at least he’s getting out of his room.”

Over the last couple weeks, Daryl has decided he likes Lori. They only had about six years on Daryl in total, they weren’t too far off in age. If the situation was different, he can see how they could all be friends. But it’s not, he’s their sons older boyfriend. They have to keep a sharp eye on him.

Daryl watches the way Rick leans back in his chair at the kitchen table they are all sitting at. Paul is up stairs in the shower and now that Daryl thinks about it, he probably needs one too. “Are we forgetting that our son is still underaged?” Rick crosses his arms and flares his nostrils with a glare. Daryl shoots one back and,

“Are we forgetting the murder you covered up as self defense? Because I think we’re past breaking the law now.” He shoots right back. It’s a stalemate, they have these kinds of arguments regularly, neither of them breaking until someone else intervenes.

“Will you both stop? We can’t leave him home alone. It’s one night, Rick, let your son grow up a little.” The woman huffs at them and stands, walking into the kitchen to clean up from dinner.

“Don’t forget I can still put you in jail. It was _you_ that pulled that trigger.” And with that, Rick leaves the table too.

* * *

 

Paul is easy to convince, he packs himself a overnight bag and grins when it’s Daryl’s bike out front instead of the truck. Rick stares them down as they leave and Daryl would be lying if he said he didn’t mean to launch dirt at the porch. Paul grips his belly the whole way into town and when they stop outside the shop, he looks like he’s physically shaking. “You okay?” Daryl pulls the helmet off his lovers head and ruffles his hair.

Paul gives him his best grin and nods. “S’ a lot, is all. The vibrations.” Daryl doesn’t have to control himself here, he openly leans down and pull Paul into him, lifting him off the motorcycle easily. Paul let’s him, backpack still on his shoulders and Daryl makes it up the stairs on wobbly legs. Paul is light in his arms, giggling when Daryl misses a step but doesn’t let him fall.

“Don’t drop me.” He teases, but Daryl wouldn’t dare. Couldn’t hurt Paul if he wanted to. “Who do you think you are, bossing me around?” He smirks and pushes the door open to—

“Maggie?” Of course, because why can’t Daryl have a normal life? Why can’t he stumble into his own home and not have something like this happen? Why can’t he have one thing work in his favor? That’s all he wants, a little reward for all the hell he and Paul have gone through to be together.

“Jeez, little brother.” Merel is shirtless, but he uses his arms to cover the way Maggie’s naked body sits on his lap.

“This whole family is fucked up.” Paul groans and lets himself fall to the floor from Daryl’s arms.

Daryl thinks, yeah, maybe (probably) this family has its issues but it’s hard not to in a small town in the middle of Georgia. “What happened to _me_ fucking a dirty sleezey dixon? How long have you been—“ Merel clears his throat and with a cocky grin says, “bout a month. Since little missy started sniffin’ around for you two. Look at us little brother, both of us snatched up a little Grimes.” His gives him this all too knowing shit-eating-grin and Daryl growls at him.

Maggie is pulling her clothes on with her cheeks bright pink. “It isn’t like that, it’s just sex okay? You don’t need to tell daddy because he _actually_ might kill Merel and—“ “And what about me, huh? You sold me out in front of everyone when all along it was you over here having dirty garage sex with a meth head!”

Everyone in the room let’s out a loud “woah” that drags for longer than Daryl would like it to. “Like your any better—“ Maggie tries to accuse but it’s Daryl who puts his foot down. “You guys have been giving Paul hell for weeks and I haven’t even fucked him yet.” It leaves Maggie wide-eyed and flushed.

He takes Paul by the hand and makes his way through the living room. It isn’t until after he locks the door that he hears them start to argue in the living room and all he can think is no way in hell is he getting laid tonight. He instead flops down on the mattress and stretches his forearm across his eyes. He wants to stay like that and sulk for the rest of the night but of course, Paul won’t let that slide. He stradles his hips in one fluid motion.

“Hey, don’t let them get to you.” Paul leans down and he still fits under Daryl’s chin easily. He barries his nose in his soft hair and sighs. “They ain’t, just...feel like the world is always gettin’ in our way, you know?” Daryl thinks for a moment that maybe it’s something they can’t change but Paul’s solid weight anchors him back to reality.

The world is only getting in their way because they are letting it.

“Then stop letting it, I’m right here...” he sits up and reaches for the hem of his shirt. Daryl grabs his wrist mid-tug and sits up as well. “Let me.” He breaths, letting his fingers slide across his skin as he drags the shirt up and over. They don’t get a lot of moments like this, where they can lock the doors and drown out the world till it’s just them, skin to skin, chest to chest, breath to breath, consuming each other in the smoldering flames of their desire.

Paul is all gasps and sweet little whines while Daryl strips him down to nothing, his mouth leaving soft bruises along his tender skin. When they are both naked, dripping in want, Daryl finally sinks two digits into an already stretched, slippery hole. “ _Jesus_ , baby, what did you do?” He growls and lets a third slip in easily. Paul stretched himself like he knew what he wanted to happen tonight.

“In the shower, that’s why it took so long. I uhm,” he’s blushing across his chest so Daryl chases it away with gentle kisses. “I didn’t think we would—just needed the feeling.” Daryl takes the confession and lets it ripple through his veins. He shivers and groans before removing the fingers. “You want me to?” He asks, though he is eager and already lining himself up, slipping their straining lengths together. “ _Please_ —can’t wait anymore.”

It’s all it takes. Daryl told himself he wanted it to be special for Paul, wanted candles and romance and fucking rose petals but all they have is this moment and a lamp beside the bed and Daryl’s spiraling rose tattoo.

They gasp together when he finally sinks in. They’ve been waiting weeks and it’s everything Daryl hoped it would be. Paul’s hot, tight around him. Paul all the while has his eyes rolled back and his jaw slacked. He looks beautiful, blissful. “Look at ya,” He preens, leaning down to mouth at his neck sloppily while Paul adjusts to the feeling. “Is it bigger than that you at home, ain’t it baby?” He teases and based on the way Paul withers around and nibbles at his bottom lip he’ll take that as a yes.

The pace is slow and careful for only a few moments and then Paul is downright begging for it to be more, faster, rougher. Daryl obeys because Paul is a force, he gets what he wants with those big ol puppy dog eyes. “Roll over.” Dark pulls out and it makes him feel like he’s missing something. Paul does as he’s told and presses his hips back, his ass in the air and he’s whimpering like a desperate bitch in heat.

  
“Please, give it to me.” Paul looks back at him with the most filthy look he’s ever seen. Daryl reaches forward and twines his fingers into his hair and with one steady push, fills the younger back up. Fucking Paul has got to be one of the most intense things he’s ever experienced. Paul cries his name, Damn near screams it when he hits the right spot. “You like that? Right there?” He curses when Paul tightens around him.

Paul shakes violently and then nearly stills but he’s still making those sounds, those delicious little Please for more. “Yes, god yes,”

“Did you just come, baby? Come on just me _fucking_ you?” Paul can only muster a nod after that. Daryl doesn’t have much left in him, and Paul is tingling with over stimulation so he comes with a shout before nearly collapsing on top of him. They stay like that for some time, until their sweat starts to cool and makes them stick together.

“I love you,” Paul sighs below him. Daryl is still reeling in the orgasmic after glow when the words catch him off guard. He chuckles, kissing his shoulder as he pulls his now soft cock out of him. “I thought I would be the first to say it.” He mumbles sleepily and Paul giggles at him. “If I wait around on you forever, nothing is going to get done.”

Daryl let’s out a deep breath with a smile before thinking, yeah.

They don’t have forever, but they have right now, and for him it’s enough.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOLD UP This is where we end it for Paul and Daryl (kind of) but if you’d like to find out what happens with Negan, Maggie & Merle and, you already know it, RICK AND DARYL catch me on the next installment of this series. 
> 
> There are lots and LOTS of dark and dirty secrets to be unraveled yet.

**Author's Note:**

> Pop, lock and drop a comment if you a down ass bitch


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